Darkest Before the Dawn
by Athena02
Summary: When betrayal and war come to Polis and Arkadia, everything Clarke Griffin and Heda Lexa know is threatened. The Grounder Civil War erupts in all its terrible glory and intrigue, and Arkadia is deep within the grip of ALIE, as two factions struggle for their different visions of the future of The Thirteen Clans. Canon divergent, fix-it. Art by Foomatic.
1. Chapter 1

_"When do you leave?"_

 _"Now…I'm sorry."_

 _"Don't be. You have to go back. They're your people. That's why I…that's why you're you."_

 _"Maybe someday you and I will owe nothing more to our people."_

 _"I hope so."_

 _"May we meet again."_

The words echoed in Clarke's mind as she committed them, and every moment that had occurred afterwards, to memory. She never wanted to forget the feel of Lexa's skin under her fingertips, the softness of her lips against hers, the unfettered look of adoration in her eyes as she'd looked up at Clarke. For one brief hour, they had not been slaves to duty, but followed the honest and fiercely fragile whispers of their hearts.

But the weight of duty could not be ignored, and pressed heavily upon them as the sun sank lower in the sky. Lexa and Clarke had risen from the bed, dressing quietly, exchanging a tender glance here, the occasional brush of fingers or lips there. It was reassuring, each touch an unspoken promise, a commitment to endure the coming conflict in order to return to one another.

It was only that promise that made Clarke able to face Lexa once she was ready to leave the room. Her eyes searched Lexa's, and suddenly she did not know what to say. "Lexa, I…"

"We will meet again, Clarke." Lexa's voice was gentle yet firm in its finality, but softened slightly at the edges with her next statement. "Be safe."

"I will. _Leidon, Heda_."

" _Leidon…Bandrona_."

And with that, mustering all of her courage, finding strength in the unspoken vow between them, Clarke turned, walking through the double doors into the hallway to face the coming storm.

She walked quickly down the hallway, winding her way down a stairwell to the floors reserved for ambassadors and visiting dignitaries. She entered the room reserved for her. It would only take her a moment to gather her few belongings that she had brought with her, and then she'd be off to reunite with Octavia and make the journey past the blockade. The sounds of Polis filtered up from the streets below, and it seemed louder than usual. She wrote it off as nerves, her senses strung tight under the pressing weight of the blockade deadline.

Her hand closed around the sketchbook lying on the table and she resisted the urge to thumb through it. The sketches of life in Polis, of the peaceful life before this madness, of Lexa…it would undo her resolve to leave if she looked at them now.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and she quickly shoved the sketchbook into her satchel. "Come in," she called out, turning her back to the door and scanning the room for her jacket. It was probably guards; it would have been so like Lexa to send her off with a full complement of warriors…

"Wanheda, we must speak," Titus' voice rang out behind her.

"Not now, Titus. I need-" Clarke froze in midsentence as she turned, her eyes taking in the scene in front of her.

The _Fleimkepa_ was flanked by over a half dozen guards, all enormous men gripping spears tightly. Their faces were all firm masks, looking at her with cold eyes. Titus' expression was grave, his eyes just as hard as the guards'. Behind them, and from the streets below, Clarke could hear shouting echoing. Somewhere, a scream rang out. Clarke's eyes flickered from Titus' gaze to the nightstand beside the bed where she'd hidden her gun. It was well beyond reach, even if she was quick. And from the expression on the guards' faces and the way they gripped their spears, she was not certain they were in the mood for any fast movements.

"Titus, what's going on?" From behind the older man, Clarke could hear shouting, and the slap of many boots running down the hallways.

"You are needed in the throne room, Ambassador." He turned slightly, gesturing behind him, and the guards parted slightly to clear a path. "Come with us, please." The last word was more of a threat than an invitation.

Fear and alarm coiled tightly around Clarke's heart, which hammered in her chest. Her eyes flickered again to the nightstand, but there was no way she could reach the weapon in time. No, whatever was going on, she'd have to rely on her wits to survive it.

"Very well, Titus." Her voice was cold, and she squared her shoulders, stalking for the door, matching the intensity of the guards' glares with her own. Dropping her satchel onto the bed, Clarke embraced the air of Wanheda, cloaking herself in the protection of death.

The hallways of the tower-which normally would be full of advisors, guards, scouts, handmaidens, and others-were eerily empty. Occasionally, Clarke could hear shouting, and at one point, thought she smelled smoke. Something was very, very wrong…

That wrong feeling only increased as they ascended to the top of the tower. Focusing on the details, Clarke could see that the guards Titus had lead, who now surrounded her, were wearing the leaf symbols and colors of the Yujleda clan on their armor. Ordinarily, Lexa's elite bodyguards were mostly Trikru, with a diverse mix of warriors from the other clans among them. There was not a member of Trikru to be seen as they moved throughout the halls, worrying Clarke greatly.

Titus pushed open the double doors to the throne room and the small group swept inside. A quick glance around the room, and Clarke could feel panic begin to churn within her.

Clarke could see the ambassadors for ten of the clans gathered, standing at the center of the room before the intimidating specter of the empty throne. At the edge the room around them, warriors from the corresponding clans bristled with weapons, glaring at Clarke unflinchingly. Their faces were streaked with warpaint, and many had blood spattered on their armor and skin.

"What have you done? Where is Lexa?" Clarke stared at the ambassadors in turn. A few flinched under her gaze, turning their eyes to the Yujleda ambassador who, with a glance to the Azgeda ambassador, stepped forward.

" _Oso edei nou na swich op nowe. Heda nou get daun-de in. Ai gaf seigeda klin hashta nou wichnes_."

Titus' voice was solemn, unflinching as he repeated the last phrase, beholden to the ceremony.

"They call for a vote of no confidence."

Tridgedasleng:

Leidon, Heda = Goodbye, Commander.

Leidon, Bandrona = Goodbye, Ambassador

Yujleda= Broadleaf

 _Oso edei nou na swich op nowe. Heda nou get daun-de in._ = Our ways can never change. The Commander does not understand this.

"Ai gaf seigeda klin hashta nou wichnes." = I call for a vote of no confidence


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke was immediately overcome with shock and fury. Glaring at each of the ambassadors, her fist closed in on itself, palm almost itching for the feel of her gun.

"You already held a vote. It failed. Even if the Commander had not established her right to lead in the trial by combat, she has proven time and time again that the strength of the Coalition brings peace and justice to your people." Clarke appealed to reason, hoping to sway some of them.

The Yujleda ambassador, Uzac, waved his hands, a dismissive gesture. " _Jus nou drein jus daun_ violates the order of our clans. No, Heda's law is used only to change our ways, to inflict suffering on our people so that those she favors might benefit." He glanced pointedly at Clarke, the undertones in his voice carrying an insult that Clarke could clearly understand. "But enough! _Nou Heda noumou_!" The ambassadors behind him nodded in fervent agreement, and the warriors behind them shifted hungrily, spoiling for a fight. Buoyed by their approval, he turned back to Clarke. "Support the vote, Clarke kom Skaikru, and your people will be spared. To object would be…unwise…for both you and your clan. The Floudoun ambassador was unwise in his decision earlier. I hope you would not make the same mistake he did." His gaze slid to the blood-spattered warriors surrounding them.

"Why even bother with the vote," Clarke asked, her gaze shifting angrily between the Yujleda ambassador and Titus, "if you could just kill Lexa and be done with it?"

"Our traditions have been bastardized enough for one day. You can hear the fighting in the streets, Ambassador. The people have had enough and demand we give them justice. There will be no peace until the old ways have been restored, and justice is served to those who would lead us astray. The vote of no confidence will avoid a war, restore our peoples' legacy, and renew our vow of peace with the Twelve Clans."

Clarke's voice dripped with fury and scorn. "And this is how you try to win peace and deliver justice? With rebellion and threats? By murdering ambassadors and betraying your Commander?"

Titus, who had remained silent from his place a few feet behind her, interjected quickly. "Wanheda, I would suggest-"

"Talk, talk, talk. I've grown tired of these games, Ambassadors."

Stepping out from the shadows, her face smeared with red blood, Ontari moved from behind a trio of hulking Azgeda warriors in the corner of the room where she had been observing the entire scene. Her gaze traveled up and down Clarke, sizing her up with naked distaste as she walked into the center of the room, standing before the throne. She cast a cutting glance at the Yujleda ambassador, waving her blood-streaked hand in irritation.

"We have tried to do things your way, Uzac. Now we do them my way." Clarke watched in confusion as Ontari nodded to the guards she had been standing behind and they walked forward, carrying the post to which Emerson had been chained to not many days past, dropping it into its niche in the floor. Ontari's eyes glittered coldly as she barked out a command to the warriors closest to the entrance doors. " _Lid em in._ "

With a slight nod of his head, Titus turned on his heel, closing the distance to the large double doors. Grasping a handle in each hand, he threw them open widely before stepping aside for the pair of guards that marched into the room. The moment she saw the burden they were roughly dragging between them, terror seized Clarke's heart.

Lexa dangled between the Azgeda warriors, who dragged her half upright by her arms, the toes of her boots trailing limply along the ground. She was unarmored, and covered in wounds and blood from both herself and others. Blood as black as midnight flowed sluggishly from her mouth and nose, spattering wetly onto the concrete floor beneath her as they hauled her forward. Her head lolled as the guards dragged her past Clarke, and for an instant their gazes locked.

Lexa's green eyes were hazy with pain, yet Clarke could see a spark of rage simmering beneath, broken only by anguished recognition when they focused on her lover. At the sight of Clarke, Lexa struggled weakly, trying to fight her captors, who only gripped her arms harder, pushing her away from Clarke and against the post in the center of the room. Rough hands fastened the metal straps and chains around the Commander, binding her tightly.

" _Natrona_!" Lexa shouted at Ontari through the blood in her mouth, "You will not-"

The closest warrior's fist lashed out and connected with Lexa's temple with a crack, and she slumped down against her bindings, on the razor's edge of consciousness.

Ontari turned her attention from the wounded Commander to Clarke, and her voice dripped with malice. "Now, Clarke kom Skaikru. You asked why I did not just kill Heda Leksa and be done with it? Do you really wish to test my resolve, or will you vote for no confidence and save your clan?"

The room was silent, so quiet Clarke swore she could hear the soft tapping of Lexa's blood dripping onto the floor. Time seemed to slow as her thoughts raced, difficult through the panic thrumming within her. Death loomed at every decision, and her mouth went dry in fear. There was no way out of this unscathed. Not for everyone she loved.

Clarke drew in a shaky breath, her eyes locked on the limp form before her before they rose to lock with Ontari's.

"I vote no confidence. _Nou Heda noumou,_ " Clarke exhaled, dropping her chin to her chest in defeat, unwilling to watch Ontari gloat.

"I knew you could be reasonable," Ontari exulted. Turning to the Ambassadors, her tone hardened to iron. "Now you may have your justice. The judgement is _Wamplei kom Thauz Kodon_ ; you each shall deliver the cut for your clan. _Jus drein jus daun_."

Clarke snapped her head up, reeling at Ontari's betrayal, and a scream tore from her lips as the Azgeda woman's hand fell to the dagger at her belt.

* * *

Next week, in Chapter Two:  
"Support the vote, Clarke kom Skaikru, and your people will be spared. To object would be…unwise…for both you and your clan..."

* * *

Trigedasleng:

"Leidon, Heda" = "Goodbye, Commander."  
"Leidon, Bandrona" = "Goodbye, Ambassador."  
Yujleda= Broadleaf  
"Oso edei nou na swich op nowe. Heda nou get daun-de in." = "Our ways can never change. The Commander does not understand this."  
"Ai gaf seigeda klin hashta nou wichnes." = "I call for a vote of no confidence."

* * *

Cover art by Foomatic.


	3. Chapter 3

"No!" Clarke screamed roughly. She took a step forward, but the Azgeda guards quickly grabbed her in an iron grip, holding her back.

"I said I would spare your clan; I made no promise about her. I am Heda now, and the clans demand retribution. I will not deny them," Ontari hissed. "Agreeing to spare your people is weakness enough."

Lexa stirred again from behind the Ice Nation woman, and drew herself up as straight as her wounds and bonds would allow. "You are weaker for choosing this path, _Natrona_. You cannot become Heda though treachery. Not for long." Her eyes were cold and unflinching, as if she could see the weakness within the other woman.

"Watch me." Ontari grinned arrogantly, and drew close to Lexa. Her dagger gleamed in her hand.

Lexa did not cry out when the blade first touched her flesh, biting down on a sharp inhale of breath as the pain erupted. Her eyes locked with Ontari's as the woman stepped even closer, barely leaving room for her arm as she drew the blade along the ragged edge of a wound along Lexa's ribs, extending the slash to curve around her belly. When she stepped back, Clarke could see the black bloodstain on the front of Lexa's shirt spread slowly.

" _Ai na op yu in. Disha ai meme in. Em Fleim meme in otaim_ ," Lexa vowed through clenched teeth.

" _Jus drein jus daun, Leksa_." Ontari drew away from the fallen Commander and Titus stepped forward dutifully. A large square of cloth was draped over his outstretched hands, and he bowed slightly as Ontari laid her dagger upon it. She retreated to the throne and sat stiffly upon it, the corners of her mouth turned upwards slightly.

"Finish the sentence. Make her bleed."

Titus bowed, and drew the cloth over the blade. Clarke's stomach turned at the sight of the black blood smearing the cloth as she stood frozen in horror. To have gone from such bliss, to this endless terror, with no end in sight was a beyond any nightmare imaginable.

Uzac stepped forward when Titus approached, and took the dagger in a firm grip. He stepped up to Lexa, whose eyes burned with a raw mix of pain and ferocity. " _Jus drein jus daun_ ," he intoned, unable to match Lexa's gaze. He covered his cowardice by looking at his hand, which pressed the knife in a jagged cut along the outside of Lexa's leg, from just above her knee to her hip.

Her cheek twitched, but she was otherwise silent for a moment before she repeatedly her earlier promise to Ontari to him. " _Ai na op yu in. Disha ai meme in. Em Fleim meme in otaim_."

The Yujleda ambassador looked unsettled for a moment before hiding behind a mask of false bravery, dropping the blade into the cloth waiting in Titus' hands. He again wiped the dagger, and again, another Ambassador stepped forward to take up the blade and extract vengeance upon their former leader.

It seemed to Clarke that an eternity passed. It was impossible for her to think, her mind filled with wordless screaming in rage at the betrayal and horror at the scene in front of her. She struggled against her captors, and each time strong hands held her back, rooting her to the floor in silent witness to the bloody judgement being carried out against her lover. Nine more times Ontari's dagger met Lexa's flesh. Nine more times Clarke heard Lexa make her vow to each Ambassador, in a voice that grew increasingly weaker as she leaned against the restraints.

And, when it seemed as if there could be no greater horror than what had already occurred, Ontari barked a command that cut through the white noise of fear roaring in Clarke's ears and suddenly the guards at her sides were shoving her forward.

"The ritual must be obeyed, Clarke kom Skaikru," Titus entreated, his outstretched hands holding out the dagger. The blade gleamed in contrast to the thick black blood that now completely soaked the cloth.

"No," Clarke growled. "Never." Her voice dripped with bitter wrath. "You can blackmail and betray me into giving you my vote, but you will never, _ever_ make me do this."

"To refuse to execute Heda's judgement is to be branded _natrona_ , a conspirator of the condemned, Wanheda. As ambassador to Skaikru, it will be judged that your conspiracy was the will of your clan, and they will be judged harshly. You will not be asked again." For a fleeting moment, Clarke could see a flash of pain in Titus' beseeching gaze before his face again became an unreadable mask.

"No."

"I will be obeyed!" Ontari raged, rocketing to her feet. "Or I will make Skaikru blood flow like a river!"

"Your promises mean nothing Ontari; you will take what you want no matter what I say or do. I voted in order to remove her from power. But I will never do this."

" _Gonas_!" At Ontari's scream, several warriors drew their bows, nocking arrows in one smooth motion and aiming for the _skayon's_ heart.

"Klark…"

Lexa's voice was weak, barely above a whisper, but it rounded out the edges of Clarke's name like a caress. She seemed to reach from deep within her last reserve of strength to lift her head, and her eyes searched Clarke's. "There is no choice here, Clarke. You must survive. For our people. For…" Lexa's voice failed, but her eyes spoke the words for her.

… _for me._

The Azgeda guards released her arms. Clarke's fingers shook as they closed around the handle of the dagger, dark blood from the cloth staining her skin. She closed the distance between her and Lexa, boots smearing the rivulets of blood on the floor. Clarke felt as if her heart had stopped within her chest. Was this what Lexa had felt like, she wondered, at Mount Weather, when she had turned her back on Clarke? Was this some cruel attempt by Fate to extract payment from the Commander for that choice? Those thoughts filled Clarke with an unendurable agony.

"I'm sorry," Clarke whispered, so low that only Lexa could hear, strangling the sob that threatened to burst from her chest. The memory of what they had shared just a few hours before surged forward, and Clarke felt her limbs shake, nearly dropping the dagger.

"Don't be. Save our people, Clarke. I would not expect anything less from you." A heartbeat passed, and when she spoke again, the last harsh tones of Heda were gone, leaving only Lexa in the soft voice that whispered to Clarke with finality. "I will always be with you."

As Clarke shallowly drew the sharp blade over the skin of Lexa's forearm her lover's deep green gaze held her own, conveying such a look of reassuring strength and forgiveness that Clarke could not hold back the sob that tore from her lips, agonizing over her desecration of the woman she had just hours earlier so reverently worshipped.

The seconds that followed flowed by, interrupted only by the clatter of the dagger falling to the floor from Clarke's numb fingers. Lexa's eyes searched hers for a moment, then became unfocused before closing. Clarke could hear a whisper, a faint sigh of breath, and Lexa slumped bonelessly against her bonds, chin lowering to rest on her chest, before she was still.

Wailing in abject grief, Clarke fell to her knees before her still lover. She felt broken. For one brief shining hour, she had been cherished and loved. And it had all been taken from her in an instant, leaving her lost in a sea of blood and chaos. She felt as if her heart had stopped in her chest, relinquishing any hope that she held for the future.

Distantly, as if from within a dream, she could see Titus pick up the dagger from the floor, wiping it on a new, clean cloth. Reaching up, he took hold of one of Lexa's intricately woven braids, slicing through it with the dagger. " _Yu gonplei ste odon, Leksa kom Trikru. Gonplei kom Heda kigon feva._ "

Tears swam in Clarke's eyes and she was unable to read Titus' expression as he briefly knelt, pressing her lover's braid into her hand, before rising and walking to the throne to return the dagger to Ontari. The newly anointed leader rose from her throne, stalking past Clarke and the unmoving figure bound to the post before her.

"I expect to see you at dawn, Clarke kom Skaikru, or your life is forfeit. _Dula yu job op, Fleimkepa. Ai nou gaf ai gyonplei drag em daun_ ," she called over her shoulder, exiting the room. Each of the ambassadors and guards followed her out, leaving only the subservient _Fleimkepa_ and grief-stricken Wanheda in the silent chamber.

There was a brief moment of stillness as the doors slammed shut, and then Titus leapt forward, unfastening the knots and clasps that held Lexa's ruined body upright. He caught her as she fell free and held her in his arms as one would a child who had fallen asleep, rushing for the side door leading from the throne room to Lexa's chambers.

"We must hurry, Wanheda. We do not have much time. The Flame-"

"Where are you taking her?!" Clarke cried out as she rose to her feet. She balled her hands into fists and charged towards Titus, singularly focused on getting Lexa out of his grip, and then killing him with her bare hands. Red tinged her vision, and she was filled only with the need to end him even if it was her last act on Earth.

"Wanheda please! There is still time to save her, but only if we hurry!"

The shock of his statement hit Clarke like ice water, and her steps faltered, jolting her to her core. For a moment his words failed to penetrate the haze of anguished grief and rage clouding her thoughts, but when he repeated the statement, she felt the fury give way. Instead, she gathered her courage, and the last scrap of hope within her heart, and trailed Titus as he carried Lexa from the room.

* * *

Next week, in Chapter Four:

"Titus sighed heavily, but turned to her, the box still in his outstretched hand.

"This contains our hopes, our sorrows, our triumphs and bitter defeats... It is the soul of Trikru." She hesitated a moment before taking the box from his hand, tucking it away into her pack. "You are the Fleimkepa now. The Spirit of the Commander cannot fall into Ontari's hands...Guard it well."

* * *

Trigedasleng:

Azgeda= Ice Nation

Yujleda = Broadleaf Clan

Skaikru= Sky People

 _Natrona_ = traitor

 _Jus drein jus daun= Blood must have blood_

" _Ai na op yu in. Disha ai meme in. Em Fleim meme in otaim_."= "I see you. I will remember this. The Flame will always remember."

" _Gonas!"_ = "Warriors!"

 _Skayon_ = Sky woman/girl

" _Yu gonplei ste odon, Leksa kom Trikru. Gonplei kom Heda kigon feva._ " = "Your fight is over, Lexa kom Trikru. The Commander's fight goes on."

" _Dula yu job op, Fleimkepa. Ai nou gaf ai gyonplei drag em daun_ ," = "Do your job, Flamekeeper. I do not want my Ascension to be delayed."


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke's heart hammered in her chest as she followed Titus from the throne room to Lexa's chambers. She knew she shouldn't trust a single word from him, but the hope that emerged in her wounded heart at his statement was too insistent to be denied.

 _There is still time to save her…_

Titus hurried to the bed, laying Lexa gently on her back upon the furs where only hours before the two of them had rejoiced in their love. Now Lexa lay upon them completely still. Her blood-so much blood, too much, Clarke's mind screamed-smeared on the white furs, shining wetly in the fading sunlight coming through the windows.

She pushed roughly on the older man's shoulder, demanding an answer. "Titus, what is going on? What do you mean there's still time to save her?!"

"Wanheda, we have had our disagreements in the past, but please know that I meant neither of you harm. This was the only way I could save you both. But we must-"

His response was cut off by a shout outside the door to the main suite outside of the bedroom. The two of them looked up fearfully, and Clarke's eyes scanned the room for anything that could be used as a weapon as adrenaline flooded her veins and she ran into the other room. Sounds of a struggle outside carried into the room for a few terrible seconds, and then there was a brief, guttural cry before something heavy hit the door, making it shudder in the frame. Clarke broke into a sprint, reaching for the door. She could block it for at least a few seconds at least. And when the traitors broke free… The best she could hope for was to sell her life as dearly as possible in vengeance.

But when the door burst open, Clarke froze in shock. "Octavia?"

Octavia Blake looked equally shocked to see Clarke for a moment, but then lowered the bloody sword clenched in her hand. She pushed the door fully open, and the gore-stained corpse of a Yujleda guard fell backwards into the room from where he had slumped against the door. "Clarke! You're alive!" The dark haired Skaikru second turned slightly, barking a quick command to those behind her. "Quick! Grab them and bring them inside!"

Clarke rushed to help as Octavia grabbed the dead guard by the straps of his armor, clearing his body out of the doorway and dumping it off to the side. Clarke was shocked when Murphy followed behind her, covered in cuts and bruises and holding a wicked-looking club at the ready. Indra quickly followed behind him with another Sangkru body, dumping it alongside the other on the floor and slamming the door shut. She took the scabbard from the shoulders of one of the corpses and passed it through the door handles, barring them all inside.

"The Commander?! Where is she?! Does she live?!" Indra asked Clarke frantically.

"In here," Clarke replied, gesturing for them to follow her back into the bedroom. "Indra, I don't know if…They put her to _Wamplei kom Thuz Kodon._ "

The moment they rounded the corner, Indra growled something in Trigedasleng that Clarke had never heard before, but from her tone was certainly the most ferocious of curses. Titus had spread open a small bundle of sharp-looking instruments on a cloth next to Lexa, and was rapidly combining the contents of two vials into a small cup.

"I have bandages," Octavia said as she rushed towards the bed, dropping her sword in a nearby chair as she pulled a pouch off of her belt and set to work staunching the flow of blood from the deepest of Lexa's wounds.

"She looks pretty fucked up; we're going to need more than that," Murphy added, earning a glare from both Indra and Clarke. He stared intently at Titus with a scowl.

"Guard the door, _Skaiboy_ ," Indra ordered. "Let anyone through and I will come back there and kill you the same as our enemies and leave your corpse in the dungeon where we found you."

"You're the boss. We're all going to get killed unless we get out of here right now anyway." Murphy whirled the club in his hands, shrugging as he went back into the other room.

"Wanheda, Indra, quickly! I need your help," Titus called. He handed the small cup to Clarke. "Get this down her throat, as much as you can."

She took it out of his hand, barely registering the bitter smell coming from the thin green liquid within. Sitting half on the bed near Lexa's head, she slid her right arm under the lifeless woman, propping her slightly upright. She used the edge of the cup in her left hand to part Lexa's lips, tipping her head back and letting a little bit of the concoction slide down her throat.

Indra's eyes narrowed as she watched Clarke pour the rest of the liquid into the stricken leader's mouth. " _Reshwan_ leaf. You gave her _reshwan_ …"

" _Reshwan_?" Clarke asked, her eyes flicking between Indra and Titus as the last of the liquid left the cup.

"A poison," Indra spat, glaring at Titus. "It has no color or smell; assassins use it. Even in small doses it can bring even a _Natblida_ to the edge of death. But if the antidote is given quickly enough it can be stopped. Though the few who survive the leaf often wish they had died."

"How...?" Clarke blinked in surprise as her memory supplied the answer. "The cloth you used to wipe the blade. You had the poison on it."

He nodded, but continued with his preparations, laying a small box with a sliding lid painted with a skull on the cloth before his fingers closed around the handle of a scalpel. "The only way I could hope to spare her was to have everyone believe her dead. But she took much of the poison, and it has been too long since the first cut. It may corrupt the Flame, if it has not done so already, which will certainly kill her. It has killed two other Commanders this way. We must be swift." He jerked his head at Indra. "You three, roll Heda onto her side, and hold her very still."

Clarke lowered Lexa back onto the bed, cradling her head as Octavia and Indra rolled her onto her side, her back to the _Fleimkepa_. Titus bent down and brushed the hair away from the Commander's neck before pressing the sharp point of the scalpel to the small, raised ridge of the scar beneath the infinity symbol etched just below the base of her skull. He broke the skin, carefully opening the scar with the blade and Clarke's stomach churned anew at the sight of black blood oozing from yet another wound on Lexa's skin. He shifted quickly, setting the scalpel aside to pick up the small box. Setting the box against her skin, he bent over the bed almost reverently.

" _Ascende superius_ ," he intoned.

A tiny silvery thread emerged from the wound in the Commander's neck. Another, and another emerged, like a spider emerging from its hiding place as the Flame came into view.

"What the...?" Octavia murmured, eyes wide.

"The Flame," Titus nearly whispered. " _Keryon kom Heda_. The Spirit of the Commander."

Clarke was speechless, and could only stare as Titus carefully took hold of a glowing blue chip attached to the end of the tendrils, which retracted them into itself as he deposited it into the waiting box and closed the lid. She had always assumed the Spirit-the Flame- Lexa spoke of was metaphorical, a legend constructed to both inspire and legitimize. But the light blue computer chip with its silvery threads was clearly anything but a myth.

Titus hurried to close the wound with needle and thread. His hands were stained with black blood as he finished, dropping the instruments back onto the bed.

"You must get her and the Flame out of Polis," Titus urged. "It is too dangerous to keep either of them here. If they catch you all will be lost."

"There is a passage that leads from the Commander's levels of the tower to tunnels below which run under the city. Very few know they exist; it will keep us from Ontari's hunters until we reach the outskirts," Indra replied. The general stepped forward, ignoring her own wounds to slide her hands underneath her sworn leader, lifting her frail body in her arms.

"We used them to get to you through the fighting," added Octavia. "We ran into Aden and the other _Natblida_ fighting in the stairwells and sent them back into the tunnels. Hopefully those kids cleared a path and made it out."

"Good. The _Natblida_ are deadly fighters and should increase your odds. I will do what I can to delay Ontari, but I do not know if I can continue to deceive her for long." Titus paused, and turned to Clarke. He extended the box containing the Flame to her with outstretched hands. "You must take this with you."

For a moment Clarke wavered, her eyes locked on the sight of Lexa in Indra's arms. She stepped forward, and gently laid her fingertips on Lexa's cheek, tracing a line down until they rested alongside the column of her throat. Her eyes welled with tears as she felt the faintest flutter of Lexa's pulse underneath her hand, thready and faint, but very much real. Her heart broke anew as she made her decision. Her gaze was firm as she locked eyes with Titus, then Octavia and Indra.

"No. I need to stay here."

"Clarke are you insane?! Ontari won't keep her word-" Octavia said, bewildered.

"If I stay I can buy time for our people. All of them, Octavia, not just _Skaikru_. Buy time to find those who oppose Ontari. And buy time for Lexa. If I leave with you she won't stop hunting us." Her eyes locked with Indra's. "Swear to me, General. You will protect her with your life."

Indra ducked her head in a brief bow. " _Sha, Wanheda. Ai don swega klin gon ai koma_."

Titus sighed heavily, but turned to Octavia, the box still in his outstretched hand.

"This contains our hopes, our sorrows, our triumphs and bitter defeats, Oktavia kom Skaikru kom Trikru. It is the soul of Trikru." Octavia hesitated a moment before taking the box from his hand, tucking it away into her pack. "You are the _Fleimkepa_ now, Oktavia. The Spirit of the Commander cannot fall into Ontari's hands, even if Lexa is captured. Guard it well."

" _Sha_ , Titus. It will be safe," Octavia reassured gravely.

"Guys!" Murphy poked his head around the corner, glancing at each of them before throwing another look back over his shoulder towards the door. "The hallway's clearing out and it's almost dark. My Grounder's a little rough but I'm pretty sure I overheard some goons in the hallway say they're all moving out of the tower and going to search the streets. If we're going to get out of here, we gotta go _now._ "

Indra turned towards the door. "You first, _Skaiboy_. Put that club to use if we meet the enemy. _Ai seken_ , you guard our backs."

Octavia chewed her lower lip for a second, looking at Clarke for a moment. "Stay safe, Clarke."

"You too," she said. "May we meet again."

And with that, Octavia turned on her heel, cautiously but quickly following Indra and Murphy out of the door and out of sight.

Silence pressed on all around Clarke. Within hours, she had gone from embracing love and hope for a quick resolution to the conflict between her people and Lexa's, to finding herself in the very center of a war with her lover lost into the night and on the brink of death. While she had bought them precious time, she was walking a very fine line, surrounded on all sides with no one to trust.

Clarke took a deep breath, trying not to stare at the black blood that soaked the bed. "Why, Titus? Why are you doing this? Since when do you care if a Commander lives or dies?"

The former Fleimkepa'sgaze was distant, looking inward for a moment before he replied. "I've served four Commanders as _Fleimkepa_ , none of them half as wise or strong as Leksa kom Trikru. It is as I told Oktavia; the Flame is the soul and memory of my people. By saving Heda Leksa, I save the worthiest bearer of the Flame. And so this is how I will serve."

She turned to face Titus. "I hope you have a plan."

" _Sha_ , Wanheda. I will finish the ritual. We will burn the Commander at dawn, and Ontari will Ascend."

"Lexa just left and so did the Flame," Clarke scowled, "we don't have her body and we don't have a chip. Ontari's not stupid, Titus."

"No, but she is rash," he instructed. "She wishes for power for power's sake, and has no knowledge of or respect for our customs. There is no one left in Polis who witnessed the last Ascension or has seen the Flame, and in her haste to command both Trikru and the Kongeda we may be able to deceive her. I can use this to our advantage. At least long enough for Heda to reach safety."

"How?"

"The less you know, the better."

"But-"

"Ontari will have eyes everywhere; if I am spotted in my false preparations, I will be killed. If you are with me, they will also kill you. They will likely interrogate you if they get any word of a plot to interfere with the Ascension. No, it is better you return to your chambers, and wait until you are called to attend the ceremony at dawn."

Clarke's shoulders dropped, but she saw the wisdom in Titus' argument. Ontari had underestimated her, and in order to fulfill her promise to Lexa to look after their people, she needed to survive and live to fight another day.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Titus," she said, throwing him a dark look before she turned to the door.

"As do I, Wanheda. As do I…"

* * *

Next Week, in Chapter Five:

"When next Ontari spoke, her voice was cold. "Ai laik Heda! For too long this Kongeda has known weakness. For too long have we endured these insults to our laws!" Her gaze lingered on Clarke with that statement. "I will be the one to lead us to glory! I will be the one to restore the old ways! And I will have the heads of any who oppose my efforts! Jus drein jus daun!""

-  
Trigedasleng:

Wamplei kom Thauz Kodon= Death by a Thousand Cuts  
Ascende superius= Seek higher things  
Keryon kom Heda= The Spirit of the Commander  
Natblida = Nightbloods  
"Sha, Wanheda. Ai don swega klin gon ai koma." = "Yes, Wanheda. I swear on my honor."  
Ai seken = [My] Second…  
Kongeda= Coalition

-  
Art by Foomatic


	5. Chapter 5

Every one of Octavia's senses was on high alert as the three fugitives moved through the tower like shadows. Their impossible luck was holding but a part of her knew that it wouldn't last. Murphy led the group and Octavia kept the rearguard, with Indra whispering directions between them as she carried Lexa's limp form. The general led them to a stairwell hidden behind a cluster of mostly crumbling rooms full of ruined furniture. The steps were covered in dust, showing no sign that anyone had passed in a very long time.

A faded sign half eaten away by rust showed that they were two levels below ground when they reached the bottom of the stairs and a closed door.

"It should open, " Indra whispered, "The opening to the tunnel is through the broken wall across the way, but we will be exposed. Eyes open."

Murphy nodded, opening the door slowly with one hand, gripping his club tightly with the other. He peered around the corner and frowned. Turning back to his companions, he held up three fingers, then pointed to his left. "Guards, but they're at the far side. Think we can make it?"

"We must; it's the only way out," Indra replied grimly, urging him on.

He pushed the door open slowly, holding it as they crept through. They found themselves in a cavernous space, long ago a parking garage, but now fallen into ruin. Ancient husks of cars littered the space, some crushed under large chunks of concrete fallen from the ceiling and support columns. On the other side Octavia spotted a large hole, big enough for two men standing shoulder to shoulder to pass through and with scorch marks at the edges, blasted into the concrete retaining wall of the garage. Beyond that, she could see the dark maw of a tunnel leading away into the distance. A low laugh echoed throughout the area, and she nervously glanced at the end of the garage furthest from them. Three guards stood around a burning trash barrel near the entrance of the garage, their backs to the fugitives as they talked amongst themselves.

They used the wreckage of the cars as cover, leapfrogging for the tunnel while keeping the abandoned machines between them and the guards. Murphy made it across first, gesturing wildly for the others to follow. Even burdened down, Indra also made it across quickly. Octavia's heart hammered in her chest as she crossed the garage, settling only slightly when she too made it into the relative safety of the dark tunnel.

She was never this lucky, she told herself. Murphy was right, there were probably a million ways to get killed tonight, and they'd probably already tried a few thousand of them. Yet they kept tempting fate. The thought made her tighten her grip on her sword.

The tunnel was dark and seemed to go on for miles. The carcasses of power conduits spilled rusty wires like bloody viscera along their path, and occasionally they waded through knee-deep sections of stagnant water seeping in from cracks in the concrete over their heads. Murphy had fished a small flashlight out of one of the pockets of his jacket, which provided a feeble light to show the path.

The group came to a four-way junction in the tunnel when Murphy yelped, nearly dropping the flashlight into the water. Octavia's gaze followed the beam of light and her lips set in a tight, grim line.

Bodies floated face down in the water, which swirled red with blood. Octavia counted at least ten dressed in the colors of traitorous clans, though judging from the…parts…strewn about there were probably more. The three of them all jerked, weapons at the ready, as a small low cough echoed from nearby.

"There," Indra said, jerking her chin to something crumpled against the wall near a raised power junction maintenance alcove ahead and slightly to the right of them. "Hold the light, _Skaiboy_. Oktavia, go."

Murphy said nothing, glumly pointing the flashlight in the direction she indicated while Octavia sloshed her way over to the area. As she got closer, she could hear another faint cough. She held her sword up to strike, but quickly sheathed it once she reached her target.

The crumpled figure was a small boy, no more than nine or ten years old. The black and crimson he wore and the symbols etched on his armor marked him as a ward of the Commander. His left hand was at his side, a short tanto blade-painted red with blood- resting in his slack palm. His other hand was cupped around the broken shafts of two arrows that protruded from his chest. His shirt was soaked with black blood and as Octavia drew near and knelt at his side, he turned with great effort, focusing his eyes on hers with difficulty.

"Oktavia kom Skaikru," he greeted. He breathed in short, labored pants. Octavia had heard that sound before. In The Mountain…from the dying. There was absolutely nothing she could do.

Her hand rose to grip the boy's shoulder firmly, one warrior regarding another. " _Natblida_."

"There were too many…" He coughed, and black flecked his lips.

"Shhh now, _gona_. You fought well. Did the others make it through?"

The Natblida's smile was predatory, and one normally found on the meanest of Trikru's warriors. " _Sha_. Aden took them ahead. I stayed to hold this place." Octavia's heart swelled with pride and broke at the same time. He took another, shallower breath. "Heda? Is she...?" His dim gaze was full of worry.

"She lives," Octavia replied, gesturing over her shoulder. "General Indra and I took her from under those _jokas_ ' noses."

His eyes brightened in brief triumph before they began to dim. "That's good…She will…need me when-" He breathed quickly, in short pants, and then was gone.

Octavia blinked and swallowed her grief. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and closed the Natblida's eyes. " _Yu gonplei ste odon, strikgona_." With gentle hands, she unbuckled the scabbard from his waist and collected the tanto from his hand. Her heart hardened with a solemn vow as she stood and turned, stepping back to where her companions waited.

She plunged the blade into the water to clean it before handing it to Murphy. "Here, you'll need this. I'll take point from here on." She deliberately avoided Indra's gaze. But even if she hadn't, she would not have found condemnation, only stoic understanding.

For once, Murphy didn't have a sharp comment for her as he clipped the short sword and scabbard around his waist. The trio of fugitives moved deeper into the miles of tunnels, leaving the dead in their wake.

* * *

It was before first light when they came for Clarke, rapping insistently on her door and awakening her from a shallow rest. She had barely slept, succumbing only to utter exhaustion once her mind had worn her down with worrying. A trio of replacement handmaidens-new faces from Yujleda that she didn't recognize and who were probably trained spies- entered a moment after Clarke rose from the bed and shouted softly for them to enter. She could see several guards outside her door before the doors shut.

She'd returned from her meeting with Titus to find that her room had been obviously searched. Her gun was gone from the nightstand, and her travel satchel upended on the floor. Fortunately for her, they hadn't found the dagger-the same one Roan had given her that she'd held to Lexa's throat-hidden behind a section of loose paneling behind the headboard. Her relief on finding the blade had paled next to discovering that they'd left her sketchbook in the satchel untouched. Although she found the idea of looking at the drawings and the length of Lexa's severed braid tucked within too painful to attempt, even in her need for solace.

Clarke bathed and dressed, only begrudgingly accepting the handmaidens' help with her intricate ceremonial braids. When one of them approached her carrying the pot of inky warpaint, she firmly refused the help, sending them all into the other room to wait for her. She stared at herself in the small burnished mirror atop the dressing table for a moment and found her sadness and worry blasted away in the heat of her anger. She had sworn to protect their people and to go along with Titus' deception, but she had never agreed to be Ontari's puppet. She picked up the pot of warpaint and dipped her fingertips into the kohl, embracing the anger and vengeance that flowed through her with every fiber of her being. As before, she traced liquid midnight in a thick bar horizontally across her eyes and bridge of her nose, but added three small, sharp fangs to the bottom under each eye. She would remind Ontari of her betrayal against Lexa, and that death would forever be a spear aimed at her heart.

When Clarke put down the pot of warpaint and looked into the mirror, Wanheda stared back.

She swept from the room, through the sitting room and out into the hallway. Her captors closed into formation around her and lead her deep within the bowels of the tower in icy silence. They stopped once they reached a set of intricately carved wooden doors decorated with skulls and withered vines, which another pair of guards opened to admit them into the temple beyond. Clarke stepped through the doorway with an air of haughty confidence and the low murmur of conversation in the room hushed, a hundred pairs of eyes following her as she took her place amongst the other clan ambassadors. She glared pointedly at Uzac as she stalked past him, choosing to stand next to the Delphi ambassador, a small woman with deep auburn hair. With the drama of her entrance past, the low murmur of the waiting crowd hummed to life again, and she surveyed the room.

The air in the sanctuary was thick with the scent of hundreds of years' worth of incense and soot. Torches flickered within holders along the walls, and dozens of candles flickered on nearly every horizontal surface, but shadows and gloom still clung to the corners. The front of the room was dominated by a series of steps leading to a low dais, on which rested a coffin-sized altar made of solid stone. Faint black smudges-the echoes of the blood of previous Commanders-stained the top of the stone.

For a moment, Clarke's mouth went dry at the sight of the linen-wrapped body lying atop the altar. Flashes of the previous night came to her unbidden; Lexa's eyes flashing defiantly as her blood stained the floor, the way her breathing had stopped and her eyes closed as she hung from the post, the way she had lain so still in Indra's arms. But as she looked closer, she could see that the body under the shroud was too broad-shouldered, the height slightly taller than Lexa. To anyone else, it was a match to the Commander's build, but Clarke-who had tenderly run her hands over every curve and plane of Lexa's body-knew that the corpse atop that altar was not Lexa's. The streets of Polis were littered with the dead; it would not have been too difficult for the _Fleimkepa_ to take one for his own purposes.

A small door opened off to the side of the dais at the front of the sanctuary, and the room immediately went silent as everyone gathered turned to face the altar. Titus stepped through the door, followed by Ontari, then Roan. The Fleimkepa was solemn, almost priest-like with singular focus. Ontari, however, looked self-assuredly smug, her chin held high as she surveyed the audience. Roan stood just behind Ontari's shoulder as she took her place just off of the foot of the altar, while Titus claimed a place near the head.

" _Yu gonplei ste odon, Leksa kom Trikru. Gonplei kom Heda kigon feva_." He raised his hands to the sky as if in prayer before clasping them together in front of his chest. " _Gonas teik em op en fleim_."

A small cadre of warriors stepped forward from where they had been waiting rear the door. They carried a rough litter made of wicker between them. As they neared the altar, Titus lifted the body from the stone and placed it carefully on the litter. Nothing more was said as they marched from the room. Several minutes passed by in complete silence before a war horn split the silence of the blue-lit dawn. Those inside the sanctuary could not see it, but above them a plume of red smoke poured from the beacon fire atop the tower. Visible for miles, those who saw it paused; some in celebration, others in hidden dismay.

It took every ounce of Clarke's self-control not to let her expression betray just how firmly she was in the latter group. The horns blared, and she tightened her fist.

* * *

The blare of the war horn echoed throughout the forest. A flock of birds startled at the noise and burst from the undergrowth near Octavia.

"Indra? What's happening?"

The general shifted Lexa in her grip. Octavia could tell that their flight through the miles of tunnels beneath Polis, coupled with miles more throughout the forest, was aggravating her injuries and bringing her to the brink of exhaustion. Yet she refused to stop for rest or let any of the others carry the Commander. Lexa remained mostly unconscious, murmuring in pain only rarely. Her black blood still seeped through the bandages Octavia had put on her, marking Indra's armor. They had to get her to safety before long, or they would still lose her.

"Ascension," she said with disgust. "Hundreds of years of tradition and law ignored by the _natrona_ in that tower."

"How much further?" Octavia asked, surveying the woods around them. With daybreak, the odds of an Azgeda patrol finding them was even higher.

"There. That tree, the one with the lightning strike. We'll take that path to the water."

"And then what?"

"You ask too many questions for a _seken_. Come on." Indra shifted Lexa higher within her arms and took off towards the indicated tree as quickly as she could, leaving Octavia and Murphy to scramble to catch up to her.

Minutes later they emerged from the tree line and onto the sandy bank of an inlet. Octavia was stunned to see a boat hauled up onto the sand at the water's edge. A man sat on the gunwale of the boat, but hopped onto the shore in alarm when he caught sight of the three of them.

"Indra!" He waved his hand to gain her attention before running to close the distance between them.

"Davan!" Indra's shoulders nearly sagged in relief.

The man ran forward and grimaced at the sight of Lexa dangling in Indra's grasp. "This is worse than I imagined. We need to hurry-"

"Hey!" The shout froze the small party in their tracks, and Octavia and Murphy both whirled around.

Four Azgeda warriors burst out of the tree line a few hundred feet down the bank. They immediately burst into a full sprint at the sight of the fugitives, raising their weapons menacingly.

Octavia didn't hesitate. "Go!" she shouted at the others. "I've got them. Get in the water now!"

They all sprang into action; Indra placing Lexa in the boat and then helping Murphy push the boat back into the water, as Davan pulled the cord in an effort to bring the stubborn motor to life. Octavia broke into a sprint and charged head on towards the enemy with a blood-curdling cry.

She was fortunate that there was not an archer among the patrol. Only quick reflexes and a last minute break to the side saved her life as a spear flew by her head. Her hand flashed to her belt and with a flick of her wrist she sent a knife flickering through the air and into the throat of the man who had thrown the spear. And then they were upon her.

The first man to reach her swung a wicked looking axe at her head, looking to end the fight with the first blow. She ducked the blow with a dancer's grace, slashing low at the tendons in his leg and then striking sideways with a vicious stab into his chest as he stumbled. He fell to the sand and was still, but his companions were on Octavia before he had finished hitting the ground. She dodged one sword blow, and threw up her arm to block another, the blade clanging off the metal of her armored bracer. She came up to strike, but instead ran headlong into one of the men's fist, which whipped her head around and caused her to stagger backwards. Seeing her mistake, he lashed out, opening a shallow cut just above her knee. It was only her backwards momentum that saved her from a more catastrophic wound. From the corner of her eye, Octavia could see his partner charging in at her from the side, waving a spiked club. She had only a split second to act before one or the other brought her down.

With all her strength, she hurled her sword at the man in front of her. The distance between them was short, and in her haste her aim was slightly off, but both of his hands gripped his weapon, and he was unable to block the blade. It arced directly into him like a thresher's blade cutting through wheat, burying itself deep in the junction between his neck and shoulder. He dropped, already dead, the moment Octavia stepped into the oncoming swing of the other man's club.

Her last-second adjustment meant that she caught the haft of the club on her arm, rather than the spikes, but the force of the blow still caused her arm to go completely numb. The man collided with her, driving his shoulder into her and bringing them both to the ground. They grappled desperately; his hands scrabbled to find purchase around her throat as she tried to drive her knees up into his ribs. Her hands scrambled in the silt around her, searching. It wasn't a moment too soon; her half-numb fingers closed around a jagged rock slightly bigger than her fist as he squeezed her windpipe in an iron grip. Through the black creeping at the corners of her vision she sighted her swing, and brought the rock against his temple with a sickening wet crunch. His eyes rolled back and he jerked spasmodically as she gasped, lungs filling with air and pushing with her hands to direct his fall to the side and away from her. She wasted no time in scrambling to her feet, wrenching her sword free from the body of her foe as she raced alongside the embankment.

Davan slowed only briefly to match her stride in the shallows a few before she leapt inside the craft. He gunned the motor as she sat up, her muscles thrumming with adrenaline. She spat blood over the side and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Well fought, _ai seken_ ," Indra said. She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement, the barest hint of a salute. Murphy whistled his agreement before turning back to rummaging through the boat's storage lockers in search of medical supplies.

"Not bad for Skaikru," Davan winked. The humor was forced; Octavia could see the drawn look on his face as he glanced at Lexa's pale form lying on the bottom of the boat. "When they put this plan together, I never imagined it would come to this."

"Heda's life would always be under threat, Davan. Lexa and Luna knew this." Indra replied. "Thank the spirits Floukru still honors their oaths."

"That we do, General. Luna is a leader of her word. You'll see."

"The world could use more clans like yours, Davan." Indra's tone was unforgiving. "It is a dark time we are in where so many other leaders' oaths can be broken so easily."

* * *

Clarke felt her fingers might break if she clenched her fist any harder, but the ache gave her something to focus on other than the feeling of outrage brewing within her.

When the final war horn's mournful echo faded, Titus reached into a hidden pocket within his robe. He withdrew a small painted box, but unlike the one that he had given to Octavia, this one was painted white, with a blue infinity symbol on the cover.

"Ontari kom Azgeda, step forward!"

Ontari obeyed his order, and together the two of them stood at the side of the altar nearest the audience. "This is the Flame. It is the spirit of Trikru and the mark of our Commander. To take it within is to embrace all that it means to be Heda. You have been Called! How will you answer?"

Her eyes glittered as she spoke. "I will take the Flame, and rule Trikru. As I now rule the Kongeda." Something ugly wove its way within the tone of her voice, something that Clarke found abhorrent, if not unsurprising. It was exactly as Titus said: Ontari wanted power for its own sake, not as a sacred trust between a leader and her people. In that moment, Clarke knew the difference between a _leader_ , and a _ruler_.

"Witness then, the sacred symbol of the Commander, and embrace the Flame." Titus opened the small box and drew out a small hexagonal chip. From her vantage point close to the dais, Clarke noticed that it was smaller than the Flame now in Octavia's possession, with no sign of the slivery tendrils. She tensed, waiting for someone to sound an alarm at their deception, but there was only silence as Ontari opened her mouth and Titus placed the chip on her tongue. She closed her mouth and swallowed, closing her eyes.

"It is done," Titus intoned. "You have Ascended, Heda Ontari kom Azgeda kom Trikru."

An Azgeda general stepped from the crowd, the Commander's pauldron and crimson sash in his grip.

" _Ste kiken, Heda Ontari!_ " he intoned, resting the pauldron on the traitor's shoulder. The assembled crowd around Clarke repeated the phrase as he fastened the clasp over her chest. For a moment, Ontari remained completely still, eyes flickering behind her closed lids before they snapped open.

Clarke immediately got the sense that the Ontari that stared out at the people before her was not the same woman she had been only a moment ago. Her gaze was focused not on them, but at the back of the room, as if there was something-or someone-there that only she could see.

Ontari smiled. "Yes…" she murmured softly. When next she spoke, her voice was cold.

" _Ai laik Heda_! For too long this Kongeda has known weakness. For too long have we endured these insults to our laws!" Her gaze lingered on Clarke with that statement. "I will be the one to lead us to glory! I will be the one to restore the old ways! And I will have the heads of any who oppose my efforts! _Jus drein jus daun_!"

Clarke swallowed. Their deception may have worked, and she and Titus may have bought time for Lexa and those who would oppose Ontari. But she had the sinking feeling that it came at a greater cost than they could have realized.

* * *

Next Week, in Chapter Six:

Clarke turned to look each of them in the eyes. "So, a resistance? Will you stand together? With me?"

Roan was the first to stand, holding his cup aloft in a mirthless toast. "To rebellion at your side, Wanheda."

The other ambassadors followed his lead, knowing that, in their agreement, they bound each other to a traitor's fate, risking everything alongside the lives of their people.

"It is agreed then," Clarke declared, taking her seat. "We need to start now."

-  
Trigedasleng:

Natblida: Nightblood  
Sha: Yes  
Gona: Warrior  
Jokas': fuckers'  
"Yu gonplei ste odon, strikgona": "Your fight is over, young warrior."  
"Em gonplei ste odon, Leksa kom Trikru. Gonplei kom Heda kigon feva.": "Your fight is over, Lexa kom Trikru. The Commander's fight continues."  
"Gonas teik em op en fleim.": "Guards, take her to the flame."  
Natrona: Traitors  
Seken: Second (warrior apprentice)  
"Ste kiken, Heda Ontari!": "Long live Commander Ontari!"  
"Ai laik Heda!": "I am the Commander!"

-  
Art by Foomatic


	6. Chapter 6

Clarke returned to her chambers quickly after the ceremony. She didn't care in that moment how her hurried exit might be perceived. That room, being in the presence of the people who had betrayed Lexa and been so eager to kill her, made Clarke's skin crawl. She'd been followed by the group of guards from before, who resumed their station outside of the door to her room. Ontari would be keeping a very close eye on her, and Clarke knew her life continued only at Ontari's whim.

She exchanged her ceremonial Grounder style dress for more comfortable pants and a shirt, scrubbing the paint from her face at the small basin of water on the room. The handmaidens had thankfully cleaned the black bloodstains from the soles of her boots, so she put them back on. With a furtive glance around the room, she took the dagger from its hiding place behind the loose wall panel and hid it within the side of her boot. It would likely not save her, surrounded by enemies so completely, but at least she would not be completely defenseless.

She stood up, looked at herself in the mirror, and fought the feeling of helplessness that closed in on her. She felt like she was back in her cell on the Ark: at the mercy of others, waiting for the inevitable. Trapped.

With a disgusted noise she shook her head. There was no time for her to sit still, wallowing in grief and doubt. Her duty now was to save her people, just as she had promised Lexa. To do that she needed information. Surely this rebellion had its weak points that Clarke could leverage. Azgeda was strong and had allies, but surely some of the clans would not be wholly on board with Ontari's bloody purge.

She threw her leather jacket on as if it were familiar armor before she left her chambers and went back out into the hallway. The guards immediately stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "You are not to leave without permission," one of the hulking men growled from behind the mask that covered the lower half of his face.

Clarke narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. "I haven't had anything to eat in two days."

"That is not my problem." The guard's tone was cruel, as if he enjoyed making the insult, and Clarke knew that he was sneering underneath the mask.

"Really _gonas,_ insults are not necessary. She may be _Skaikru_ , but she is still a _Bandrona_."

Both Clarke and the guards turned to face the source of the interruption. The Delphi ambassador stood there in the hallway, her expression cool. The men were nearly twice her height. Yet under the auburn-haired woman's gaze they seemed to falter. The cruel guard traded a glance between the two women.

"We will have something sent up."

"Nonsense. I will escort her to the _Bandrona's_ study and back. I was just on my way there myself." She smiled pleasantly, but the smile never reached her eyes.

"Heda has ordered-"

"I know what Heda has ordered," the Delphi ambassador said sharply. "We will not leave this tower. I am an ambassador pledged to serve Heda, _gona_. I've just supported her Ascension. It's not likely I will defy her over some breakfast."

The guard looked appropriately chastened, and with a nod, he and his companion stepped out of Clarke's path. Mustering her most regal posture, Clarke moved to stand next to the other woman. _"Moba, Bandronas_. Though the _Skaikru_ must be returned before long."

"Of course," the Delphi woman said, as Clarke bit back the desire to scowl at being referred to like a lost dog. With a quick glance to Clarke, she folded her hands into the long sleeves of her robe and continued down the hallway with Clarke following alongside her.

They walked in silence for a few moments until they reached the end of the hallway, entering a stairwell that led to the lower levels. The Delphi ambassador's voice was low, meant only for Clarke's ears, but it retained its pleasant lilt. To any observers, it looked and sounded like idle pleasant chatter between ambassadors.

"We have not had occasion to speak often, Wanheda. I am Mina kom Delfikru. I apologize for the behavior of your guards."

Clarke was incredibly wary. She had not expected any slightest kindness, much less an apology. And from a woman who had just declared her support for the coup. "Well met, Mina," Clarke replied formally. "Though this is not the first time guards and I have not seen eye to eye." She did her best to keep her tone neutral, not knowing where she stood with this woman.

"Though I am certain that this is the first time such a disagreement may get you executed," Mina replied with a pointed look that made a question start to unfurl in Clarke's mind.

Clarke laughed in bitter irony. "Just like on the Ark. The more things change, the more they stay the same."

"I agree, much has changed since you fell to Earth, _Wanheda."_ Mina's eyes quickly checked the stairwell around them. "Not all of it for the best." Her eyes met Clarke's, and the telling look spoke what was too dangerous to say out loud.

"You mean the corruption of your laws by my clan, right?" Clarke threw the statement out, a subtle test.

Mina quickly glanced around them and, after seeing or hearing no one, pulled Clarke aside by the elbow into a darkened recess of one of the doorways leading to the closest stairwell exit. "No, Wanheda. I will say it plainly, and at great risk. This coup is a disaster." Her whisper was strained.

An echo of a memory resonated within Clarke. "You started a war you don't know how to end. And you need my help."

Mina nodded quickly. "There are others-" She broke off quickly as the sound of a door opening and footsteps echoed a few floors above them. She stepped out from the alcove and continued in the direction of their original destination. When she spoke, her tone was back to the airy, light inflection she had used before. "As I was saying, I hold a salon weekly. We shouldn't let the recent unpleasantness stop that from happening. You should attend; we gather at the Delfikru tea shop in the Northeast Quarter at dusk. I'll see that Heda places Delfikru guards on the evening watch outside your door. They will show you the way. Now…breakfast?" Mina smiled invitingly. But the smile was forced, and her expression remained grave.

Clarke followed alongside her, as the fear of betrayal warred with the fierce hope that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

* * *

"We're not far now, Oktavia," Davan called out, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to the rest of the group sitting behind him.

Octavia stood up stiffly. After sitting in the bottom of the boat for an entire day as they motored down the bay, her injuries ached. However, when she looked at Lexa her own pain seemed to pale in comparison. The Commander had not stirred during the entire journey. She had become increasingly pale, her breathing far too slow and shallow. Indra sat next to her stricken leader, features knotted with worry as she yet again rested her fingertips against the younger woman's wrist to feel for her pulse.

"She cannot fight much longer. We need a healer," Indra said. "Tell him to hurry."

With a terse nod, Octavia made her way to the front of the boat where Davan guided the craft. "If we don't reach a village soon she's not going to make it; there's not much time left."

He nodded and pushed forward on the throttle, making the boat lurch forward as the engines coughed and growled. "We will be spotted soon. Keep an eye out, Skaikru…"

A minute later they rounded a bend of the shoreline. A tall watchtower rose above the tops of the low trees along the bank, and beyond that Octavia could see several rough docks reaching out into the water. A small village of sun-bleached homes lay just beyond that, a slight haze of smoke from early evening cook fires hanging over them. Beyond the village, at the point where land, sky, and sea met, Octavia could make out the dark silhouette of a lighthouse standing against the darkening sky. The white tower was topped with a red light, and was still standing despite several holes gouged in the column of the structure.

" _Heya_ , Davan!" the sentry stationed at the top of the watchtower called out as they drew near, waving to its captain.

" _Yu don hon fisa in snap! Kom Luna! Ai lid in ledon!_ " Davan yelled back, gesturing for the lookout to hurry.

The lookout reached to his belt and put a small horn to his lips, blowing a sharp warning sound towards the village. Another horn answered and as they drew nearer to the village Octavia could make out figures rushing to meet them on one of the docks.

Davan brought the boat alongside the dock as quickly as possible. Floukru men threw out lines as they approached, and Murphy and Octavia caught them, pulling them against the wooden pier and quickly tying them to the davits on the boat.

" _Indra kom Trikru!_ " A slender woman with dark eyes and wildly curly chestnut hair ran down the dock, recognizing the general. She was trailed by two individuals carrying bags laden with supplies and a makeshift litter; from the look of them Octavia could recognize that they were likely healers. The crowd on the dock parted for the three of them with deference, though the woman did not look much older than Octavia herself.

The Trikru general lifted the boneless body of her Commander from her place on the boat. As the wild-haired woman drew near with the healers, reaching to accept the burden, she obviously looked startled, recognizing the wounded woman. The look of shock passed quickly as the Floukru woman shoved her surprise away, schooling her features.

"She has been poisoned with reshwan, stabbed, and lost a lot of blood," Indra reported, making eye contact with the healers, who nodded their understanding. The Floukru woman lifted Lexa from Indra's arms, passing her to the two healers, who rushed off down the docks into the village.

Exhaustion seemed to hit the fugitives at once. The wild-haired woman helped Octavia scramble from the boat onto the dock, and both women had to help Indra, who winced from both exhaustion and her wounds. Murphy followed, furtively looking around the dock at the handful of people helping Davan load and unload fuel and supplies.

"I must follow her..." Indra said, turning to charge off in the direction the healers had headed.

The wild-haired woman grabbed the general's arm at the elbow, gently slowing her, but not stopping her as they walked quickly to keep pace. " _Hod op_ , Indra. Is it true, what has happened in Polis? You arrive with Lexa, and my spies say my ambassador has been killed; that-" she stopped abruptly, looking suspiciously at Murphy and Octavia. "Who are these people?"

"Murfi kom Skaikru and _Fleimkepa_ Oktavia kom Skaikru kom Trikru. They are allies," she introduced tersely. "Meet Luna, Heda kom Floukru."

Murphy cocked his head to the side and Octavia ducked her chin in acknowledgement, but Luna's eyes widened in further shock before narrowing at Octavia.

" _Fleimkepa_?"

Indra's pace sped up as she made a beeline down the narrow alleyway away from the docks. "We have much to discuss, Luna. But, we must make sure Heda Leksa survives. Or who will take the Flame will be the least of your worries."

" _Sha_ …" Luna agreed, and led them deeper into the village.

* * *

Clarke had been halfheartedly reading a book, barely focused on the yellowed page, when the knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She glanced up at the open windows, noting the way the late sunset streaked the sky with red before she set the book aside on the couch, grabbing her sketchbook from the table in front of her and stuffing it into a small satchel before slinging that across her shoulders. With a last look around the room, she made her way to the doorway.

A high ranking warrior, a square-jawed young man with a shock of bright blonde hair and dark blue eyes, bowed slightly as she opened the door. He wore a deep green hooded cloak, fastened to his decorated armor with a clasp forming the circle bounding the four arrows of the Delphi clan. The two guards on either side of Clarke's door were dressed identically, gripping sharp-looking spears. "Good evening, Wanheda. I am Keten kom Delfikru, commander of _Bandrona_ Mina's personal guard. She has ordered me to show you to tonight's salon. If you would please put this on and follow me." He held out a deep green cloak, in the same style that he wore, to Clarke.

Clarke fastened the cloak over her shoulders and threw the hood over her head. She followed at Keten's side, a half-step behind the captain. The two other guards followed several paces behind, at a respectful yet watchful distance. They took the main elevator to the ground floor, and Clarke felt the tension within her rise, shifting her feet. Ontari had eyes everywhere; there was no way that Clarke would not be followed and her movements reported back. Keten seemed unconcerned and strode confidently past the squad of _Boudalan_ guards standing watch at the main entrance with only a stiff-necked nod of acknowledgement towards their captain.

She said nothing, her eyes scanning the streets and buildings as they passed. Keten led the party away from the tower and into the side streets, choosing a wandering path away from the city center. After several blocks, he took a corner abruptly, bringing them down a series of winding narrow alleys lined with shuttered storefronts, with homes above. The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, and the sky was darkening, casting the streets into shadow. Clarke could hear individual voices nearby as people wandered the streets, finding their individual ways between the markets, taverns, and homes as the city prepared to sleep. One of the side alleys they entered was covered by a ramshackle overhang made of rough boards which partially obscured the passage from view. As they drew near, Clarke could see four more figures waiting in the shadows, dressed identically to the group she walked with. Two carried spears, the third wore the breastplate of a Delfikru general, and the fourth-a blonde woman about her height and build-seemed unarmed. Moving seamlessly, the two groups merged in the shadows, and the two pairs of armed guards exchanged places with practiced fluidity. Clarke and Keten continued on with the new guards, while the identical decoy group took a different side alley.

The Delphi captain missed nothing, and his lips twitched upwards slightly in amusement as Clarke let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding since they had left the Commander's tower. "You are safe with us, Wanheda. I am not naïve enough to expect you to trust me simply because I ask you to. There are many prying eyes in the night, but this is not the first time my _gonas_ and I have kept them blind when it was necessary. Delfikru politics can be a very deadly game at times."

Clarke glanced over at him curiously. "Is that how you see this? A game?"

"It is," Clarke could hear the frown in his voice, "though in my homeland, we prefer not to shed blood for political aims. Violence is so…crude. But, it is at its core, a game. One side makes a move, hoping that the other does not see the traps laid ahead. It's just like-"

"Chess," Clarke finished.

"You know the game?"

"Very well actually." She smiled, reflecting on fond memories from easier times. "I'm surprised you do."

The general spared a glance at her over his shoulder, then returned to scanning the way ahead. "My people value knowledge, learning, and strategy. We have kept some knowledge from Before. Chess, Gonasleng…other things. Perhaps we can play a game or two, when this unpleasantness is over?"

"Perhaps…" Clarke said, the pleasant feeling brought on by her memories interrupted by the reminder of the current danger.

They traveled in silence for the last several minutes of the journey. The narrow alleys and crowded buildings of the city center gave way to more slightly more spacious streets and neighborhoods interspersed with trees and overgrowth. They stopped outside of a pleasant-looking tavern, decorated with wooden support pillars covered in intricately carved vines and leaves. A hand-painted wooden sign featuring a mug and the Delphi clan symbol hung from a corner eave.

"Go," Keten ordered. "Inside, ask for a cup of 'Eyresh black tea'. They will know where to take you from there. We will stand watch."

Clarke nodded her understanding and her thanks and headed inside.

It took her a moment to get her bearings inside the building. The main room of tavern was full of light and warmth, oil lamps and candles filling the wood-paneled building with a pleasant glow. Patrons sat at tables and benches scattered throughout, chattering amongst themselves over clay cups of tea. In one corner, a young man laid lines of colorful paint onto a canvas propped up against the wall, chewing on the stem of a pipe which emanated a deep purple smoke. In the other corner, near a fireplace full of racks of roasting meat, a young woman played a small drum, making a dull throbbing background melody. Paintings and twisted bits of polished brass sculpture lined the walls, adding a touch of almost opulence to the environment.

All those details flooded Clarke's senses, and she almost missed the approach of the tavern hostess before the other woman cleared her throat.

" _Sis yu au?_ "

" _Sha_ ," Clarke replied, " _Yu gada Eyresh Shadte in?_ "

" _Mafta ai op_ ," the hostess replied, gesturing for Clarke to follow her as she turned and walked toward a hallway leading away from the main room. The haze from more purple smoke clung thickly to the ceiling in the hallway, coming from side rooms where Clarke could see people working at brightly colored canvases, or trying out new melodies on instruments. She shook her head to clear her mind as they reached the end of the hallway, walking down a short staircase leading to a solid oak door. The air down here was cooler as they went underground, and the hostess knocked on the door in an intricate pattern. The door cracked open, and the woman gestured for Clarke to enter, before she turned discreetly and headed back up the stairs to her patrons.

Clarke stepped through the door, quietly closing it behind her. A table had been set up in the center of the basement cellar, and the lamplight glittered off the bottles lining the walls. She immediately recognized the figures seated at the table, who looked up as she stepped inside. Mina stood to greet her from the head of the table, while Roan, seated to her right, nodded in greeting. The Boudalan and Ingranrona ambassadors both sat at the table, looking at Clarke with subtle trepidation as she sat down.

"Welcome, Wanheda. We are all glad you came," Mina began.

"I am not entirely sure why I'm here," Clarke said.

The Boudalan ambassador spoke next. "Ontari has gone too far. She threatens our clans. With Trikru under her control she brings death to our borders."

The Ingranrona ambassador nodded in agreement, looking grave. "Ortwin speaks true. _Ingranrona_ lies far from Trikru lands, but Ontari has powerful allies to the west."

"Thank you, Emilis," Mina said softly, still looking at Clarke.

Clarke narrowed her eyes at the ambassadors. "Mina, you said earlier your clan supported the overthrow. I watched each one of you cut Lexa to carry out her execution. Why should I believe a single word any of you say?!"

The Delphi woman's expression moved from strained regret, to genuine contrition, the last bit of her schooled mask falling away. "Our clans supported a collective petition to Heda Leksa to remember the needs of the smaller clans, and ensure that all would be equally protected under any change to the law when Skaikru was made the Thirteenth Clan. Ontari and the majority of Azgeda have twisted that into a mandate for absolute power, and have broken all laws to spill the blood of anyone who resists them. We did not ask for a coup. Already they say she has gone mad with power, sending out riders to collect pledges of fealty from the surrounding villages and putting those who refuse to the sword." She shuddered. "It will only be a matter of time before she brings that madness against my clan."

"Why are you telling me this now? Ontari has been in power for barely one day."

"Events are changing quicker than we could have anticipated. Once she has consolidated power, no one will be able to stop her."

Clarke turned to Roan, who had been silently watching the exchange, toying with the tea in his cup. "And what are you doing here? You're king of Azgeda. You should have the power to stop this." Her words had a bitter edge.

His gaze matched hers. He looked defiant, though sad. "Nia raised Ontari to be her pet _Natblida_ , though obviously she had her own plans. She has the Azgeda generals on her side, and so controls the army. I am an exile and a pariah to them, my title granted by their enemy after the murder of their queen. Besides," his demeanor became troubled, "she no longer listens to my advice after her Ascension. It is as if she listens to another. I am a king in name only…for now."

"For now?"

He set the cup down. "Heda Leksa was not the only one who wished for peace, Wanheda. Life is harsh in the North. Enough of my people die without fueling Azgeda's endless wars. So, I cast my lot with you, and add 'Traitor' to my long list of titles." He smiled ruefully, spreading his hands.

Clarke turned to look each of them in the eyes. "So, a resistance? Will you stand together? With me?"

Roan was the first to stand, holding his cup aloft in a mirthless toast. "To rebellion at your side, Wanheda."

The other ambassadors followed his lead, knowing that, in their agreement, they bound each other to a traitor's fate, risking everything alongside the lives of their people.

"It is agreed then," Clarke declared, taking her seat. "We need to start now."

They plotted well into the evening, and sent several runners sneaking out the rear door of the tavern like crows in the night, spreading plans and secrets to those who would rise up when the time came and Wanheda called.

There was a light, patterned tapping at the door many hours later, and Roan answered. Keten stood on the other side, looking around the room.

"Dawn approaches, _Bandronas_. Even the leaf addicts are wandering home. We should return."

Clarke surveyed the other ambassadors. "You all know what to do?"

Those assembled indicated their agreement, and Mina came around to join Clarke. "You and I can be seen together, Wanheda. It shouldn't be suspicious if we are seen leaving my salon. The rest of you, be sure to scatter back into the city. I will leave the other guards to see you out safely."

Together Clarke, Mina, and Keten returned to the street outside. The ink-black of the night sky was just barely starting to take on the dark blue hint of dawn to the east. The guards formed a bubble around them as they walked, quickly weaving through the empty streets back to the city center and the tower.

Keten's footsteps slowed as the streets widened. The square in front of the tower lay several hundred yards in front of them, gaping like a chasm. One hand moved under his cloak, resting atop the pommel of his sword as the other swept back behind him, halting Mina and Clarke.

"The streets are too empty, Mina. There should be merchants about on their way to the markets. I do not like this." He crept forward slightly, shifting his body in front of the group.

"I agree. We need to-"

Her words were cut off an arrow whistled down from above, burying itself with a wet, hollow sound into the slight Delphi woman's shoulder. Her hands flew up reflexively to close around the shaft, delicate features frozen in surprise.

" _Jomp em op Azgeda!_ " Shouts erupted from the square, and the light of a dozen torches carried by warriors poured out from the base of the tower into the square.

The Delphi commander moved quickly, hauling his leader back into a side alley. "Help me!" he shouted at Clarke, who grabbed one of the Delphi ambassador's arms, slinging it over her shoulder as the smaller woman's steps faltered. Together, they raced headlong back into the warren of back alleys, the shouts of their pursuers echoing behind them.

With a crash, Keten threw his weight into the flimsy back door of a shop, hauling both women in behind him. He quickly shut the door behind them, crouching out of sight with his sword drawn as Clarke dragged Mina into a darkened corner of the shop away from the entrance.

No one breathed as a pack of Azgeda warriors stomped by, torches casting twisted shadows against the wall of the shop. They hurried by in their haste and fortunately did not investigate the shop any further, thinking their quarry had continued their flight down the street. Still, the escapees waited a solid minute before Mina broke the silence.

"Ontari knows," she whispered faintly.

"I took every precaution," Keten said, looking anguished as he rushed back to kneel at her side.

"I know, but she is far more dangerous than we realized." Her eyes were full of pain, yet a spark of defiance still blazed within them as she turned her head to look at Clarke. "You must flee the city. If Ontari kills you, this rebellion dies with you."

Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but quickly shut it, realizing that Mina was right. "I can head for Arkadia."

Keten bit his lip, his eyes moving from Clarke to Mina and back again. "Wanheda, scouts report that not all may be well in Arkadia."

Pushing back on the questions that popped up in her mind, Clarke focused on the immediate danger. "It's safer than here. I can talk to Kane and my mother, warn them to prepare."

Keten looked as if he were about to say something, but Mina interrupted him before he could speak. "Go with her, _houmon_. See her safely to her _kru_."

A look of anguish crossed the soldier's face before he hid it behind a steely mask. "I cannot leave you here to die."

"Do not let love blind you to your oath now. Do as I ask, Keten."

Despite the danger, something within Clarke's heart broke anew, scratching at the deep wounds left by Lexa's grave injury and exodus. There was the wise decision, and then the compassionate one.

"No," Clarke said, rising up slightly from the floor. "I order you, as the leader of this rebellion, to get Mina out of the city. I need every ally I have for this fight. I can make it on my own."

"Wanheda-" Mina protested weakly.

"No! Go, and go now!" Clarke hissed, stalking for the door. She heard Keten shift behind her, lifting Mina into his arms.

Clarke didn't look back as she slipped out into the streets. She kept to the shadows and warrens of the city, hiding amongst overgrowth and rubble whenever a group of Azgeda warriors got too close. Fortunately for her they were noisy and easy to avoid, blinded by their bloodlust, and the fading darkness hid her until she reached the outer wall of the city. The lone guard at his post near one of the many smaller gates leading into Polis fell easily to her dagger, and then she was off, racing the dawn and her enemies south through the forest to Arkadia.

* * *

The faint light of dawn had begun to fill the small room in the Floukru healers' hut when a small noise roused Octavia from sleep. She opened her eyes slowly, but a moment later as she took in her surroundings the memories from the previous hours crashed down on her.

Black blood staining the healers' hands as they sewed deep wounds shut…the terrible smell of antidote brewing…the hushed whispers as Luna had reminded them of their oaths to protect the identity of their patient on pain of death…

She sat up, instantly awake, as another small noise caught her attention.

From the bed across the room, Lexa's green eyes sought hers. The Commander was awake, but clearly confused and in pain, wildly searching the room around her. She moved her arms as if to push herself upright, but quickly groaned in agony and lay still.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Lexa asked. Her tone held only a thin veneer of command, but Octavia could hear how it cracked at the edges in a way she found unsettling.

"It's Oktavia kom Skaikru, Heda. You're in Floukru territory…Luna's village."

"Luna? I don't understand…" Lexa gulped, and her eyes went wide. "I cannot feel the Flame. Where is it?! What have you done?!" Her voice cracked in anguish, fear scrabbling in her throat.

Octavia stood in alarm. She had never before seen Lexa shaken in the slightest, but the woman on the bed before her now seemed lost, slipping backwards into near-panic. She turned to Indra, who had been sleeping in the chair next to her, and firmly shook the general's shoulder, rousing her to wakefulness.

"Heda!" Indra exclaimed, quickly moving to crouch alongside the bed, her hand closing on Lexa's upper arm in an effort to keep her still.

Lexa's eyes seemed to focus at the sight of her trusted subordinate. "Indra…"

" _Sha_ , Heda?"

"How did you get here? Where is my _niron_? Have her explain what happened."

Indra's brows knit in concern. "Do you mean Clarke, Heda? I do not understand."

Lexa's voice was strained. "Who is Clarke?" The name tumbled from Lexa's lips as if it were a foreign thing. "Costia. She was just here, after the Conclave."

Octavia felt as if a rock had dropped from a great height into her stomach, and she traded a quick worried glance with Indra.

Indra's shoulders raised and she steeled her spine for what she had to say, but her voice was choked with fearful tension. "Costia died several years past, Heda. _Em gonplei ste odon_."

"No! Liar!" Lexa's hands flew up, weakly punching at Indra, struggling against the general's grip so frantically that black blood dotted the sheets as stitches tore. "Where is she? Where is Costia!? Where is the Flame?! What have you done to me?!" Her shouts unraveled into raw screaming, and Octavia could only look on in horror as the Commander of the Thirteen Clans fell apart completely, replaced with a lost and lonely wounded girl.

" _Seken! Lid em fisa en!_ " Indra shouted to Octavia, grabbing hold of Lexa's fists as the other woman collapsed into jagged sobbing.

Octavia turned on her heel and ran, her own tears of despair pricking hotly at the corners of her eyes as she turned her back on the fallen Commander, searching for help in the Floukru village. For a moment, she wished that she could disappear from this place-this life of horror and blood and death-and return to that vast, quiet emptiness of space, back before everything had fallen to ruin.

* * *

Next Week, in Chapter Seven:

"For a moment, Lexa did not feel like she was in the same room, lost in another emerging memory. She felt as if her face was covered with still-hot blood spatter, her hand trembling on the pommel of her sword as she held back tears, staring into wide blue eyes as her mouth choked on words of betrayal. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, opening them to find herself back in the small Floukru house. Her fingers closed around the pencil in her hand, willing it to stop shaking as yet another missing piece clicked into place within the tangled web of her mind.

"Oktavia, who is Clarke kom Skaikru?" Her mouth was dry as she posed the question..."

Trigedasleng:

"Hod op…": "Wait..."  
Bandrona: Ambassador  
Boudalan: Rock Line Clan. Composed mostly of portions of the former southern U.S. states: West Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee.  
Gona: warrior, guard  
Moba: Apologies  
Delfikru: Delphi Clan. Composed mostly of portions of the former midwestern U.S. states: Wisconsin, Illinois, and northern Indiana.  
"Yu don hon fisa in snap! Kom Luna! Ai lid in ledon!": "Bring a healer, quickly! And Luna! I bring wounded!"  
"Sis yu au?": May I help you?  
"Sha…Yu gada Eyresh Shadte in?": "Yes…do you have Eyresh Black Tea?"  
"Mafta ai op": follow me  
Ingranrona: Plains Riders Clan. Composed mostly of portions of the former midwestern U.S. states: southern Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, and northern Arkansas  
"Jomp em op Azgeda!": "Attack, Azgeda!"  
Houmon: wife, husband, spouse  
Niron: lover  
"Seken! Lid em fisa en!": "Second! Get the healers!"

-  
Art by Foomatic


	7. Chapter 7

Comments, critiques, everything and anything welcome in the comments. You can find me on tumblr msmayhem1515. Enjoying the story? Feel free to tweet, reblog, or otherwise share the link to it!

Warnings: References to blood, canon-typical fight violence.

Note1: I have adopted the speculative map created by ofhouseadama, which you can find here: http .com(slash)post(slash)139750531769(slash)ofhouseadama-hello-so-as-i-started-delving-into

Note2: I deeply apologize, but unfortunately my work schedule has become a nightmare, leaving me little time to write. I am running out of 'banked' chapters, and while I am hoping I can stay ahead and maintain a weekly posting schedule, I am not certain I will be able to. Rest assured, the story is mapped out, and I am writing as fast as I can, but unfortunately real life has other plans. I beg your understanding, and your patience; you all have been amazing and I don't want to let anyone down! I will do my best to post chapters as soon as they are available.

* * *

A hurricane lashed the coast nonstop for two days, the village locked within the grip of a storm fiercer than anyone could recall. Surging waves thrashed at the docks while the wind and rain pummeled the small buildings. The residents had boarded up their homes and secured their boats as the howling winds had first approached, and hunkered down in their shelters as the hurricane raged.

A loud knock on the rough wood of the small house broke through the noise of the storm and roused Lexa from her study of the sheaf of papers in her hand. She stood with effort and a grimace, swallowing down the wave of pain that washed though her. It had been three days since she had first woken up in the village, and her wounds were still raw.

She lifted her hand from the back of the chair, steadying herself and gathering her composure before she called out. " _Min yu op_." It would not do for anyone to see her so weak.

The door opened and Octavia slipped inside. The wind howled and she had to push a little harder to close it behind her. She stood in the doorway, shaking the rain off her braids and the oilskin cloak she wore over her armor. "Heda, the _gonas_ on the picket lines captured riders approaching from the west. They bear no clan insignia, but are armed."

"How many?"

"Three. They seem rather young. Maybe the _Natblida?_ "

One of the memories swirling through Lexa's mind clicked into place. Faces and names settled with certainty, and she felt a tiny thread of relief wind through her. Still, she needed to be sure…

"Did they say anything?"

Octavia's brows knit in confusion. "The boy that led them said they were 'seeking the Three Pillars'. Does that mean anything to you?"

"It does." Lexa's felt the knot of tension between her shoulders ease. "Please send Luna's most trusted _gonas_ to meet them and escort them to me right away. A small group; better to not be noticed, even if the storm covers their approach."

" _Sha, Heda._ Yaku will more than likely go herself."

Lexa's lips drew into a thin line, thinking of the Floukru warrior with the light hair and dark eyes. "How many more know I am here?"

"She's the only one. Luna says that her clan is not the type to ask questions 'when strangers wash up on the shore'. And she says she trusts Yaku with her life. She seemed to feel strongly about that last part."

Lexa turned her attention back to the papers on the table. " _Sha_ , the _Floukru_ did not build their reputation as smugglers by asking too many questions. As for Yaku…she was among the guards who kept watch over _the Natblida_. She was with Luna the night of her Conclave, and has likely risked death for her many times since. We will have to put our trust in Luna's judgement." Judging by the way her brows knit in confusion, Octavia knew there was so much more hidden in between the words of Lexa's statement, but she kept quiet. "Please tell Indra to be here when the riders arrive. That is all, Oktavia."

Octavia ducked her head in acknowledgement of the orders as she was dismissed, stepping back out in the storm. The moment that the door closed behind her, Lexa's legs wavered, and she steadied herself by holding onto the back of her chair as she embraced the pain, focusing on it instead of the disquiet that echoed throughout her mind. She carefully breathed in, trying to recover the emotionless mask of command that she wore like a piece of armor. Despite the turmoil within her, despite the absence of the Flame's whisper, despite the jumble of memories in her head, she knew what others expected to see in their Commander. It was one of her earliest lessons, and it was comforting in its harshness and familiarity.

Pain of one type or another had been a near-constant companion throughout her life. She had grown up being taught that it was the fire that would forge her, temper her. Yet none of the lessons she had learned in her past, none of her experience healing after the dozens of battles she had fought in, had wounded her quite as deeply as this one. The wounds of her flesh seemed almost familiar, compared to the raw edges of the wounds in her mind and her heart.

Shame and fear tangled within the pit of her stomach as she thought back to that first night. The last clear memories she had was of standing bitterly triumphant at her Conclave, her hands and blades covered in _Shadjus_. And then Titus, and the words of the Ascension ritual, and the bite of the blade in the back of her neck, followed by pain, and then the jumbled roar as a hundred voices and a million dead memories flooded her mind…

And then she had woken to Octavia and Indra standing before her, telling her that Costia was long dead, the Clans had believed her dead at their hands, the Flame likely corrupted by poison, and Polis awash in blood as Ontari claimed both her clan and her throne.

After that, everything had seemed fragmented, coming to her in flashes. She felt like a child, grasping at wooden blocks, trying to fit them together into a stable tower. Some things she knew were true, solid memories settling into place when she heard names mentioned, in the quiet moments when Luna answered her questions, or the silence when Indra could not meet her eyes when she struggled to remember: Meetings with clan leaders, offering them an alliance. Costia's bloodied head, delivered to her bed, and the grief-filled weeks that followed. Her armies gathered, marching on the North. Nia's smile twisting as she knelt to her, and the way her heart had seethed to put peace above the call for revenge. Anya's growled threats when she reported that a group of invaders from the sky had crashed in the forest, raging and destroying on the Commander's lands. The way the charred bones of three hundred of her warriors had crumbled to ash under her boots and she'd vowed to make Skaikru pay. The feeling of her blade as it slid smoothly between Gustus' ribs and into his heart. The bitterness and rage in her heart as she looked into the grinning face of a Mountain Man and made a deal with the devil. A spear jutting from Nia's chest. Looking upon a field of corpses in the morning mist, heart frozen in shock. These things seemed scattered, jumbled, but by their bloody nature and the pain associated with them, she knew they were true.

The others were more faint, as if from a dream. When she reached out to the memories, they flowed through her grasp like water, difficult to capture and make sense of: A blonde haired woman arguing against her until the rough wood of a table was at her back. Soft lips against hers, ending in a whispered "Not yet…". Pale hands wrapping a cloth around a wound in her palm, blue eyes bright in the candlelight. Those memories were ghosts, and the echo of gentleness-and even love-that accompanied them seemed foreign to Lexa. Blood, fear, and war she understood. Comfort, love, and hope seemed a distant mirage in light of her current nightmare.

Lexa sighed in frustration and shook herself out of her thoughts. Her people needed a Commander, not a troubled and defeated weakling. She could not afford to be lost within her own anguish when there was a war to fight. She turned her attention back to the papers in front of her, reading each report of villages burnt to the ground or people murdered for simply being loyal to her. She sat and read the dire news for over an hour, until she heard voices approaching from outside the house. She stood carefully and watched through the window as several cloaked riders approached the house, hunched over their horses' necks in the driving rain and wind. Indra and Octavia walked up from around the corner, and offered terse greetings as the riders dismounted.

"Indra and Oktavia kom Trikru!" The lead rider called out, a youthful voice projecting grave seriousness. "Does she live?"

"Come see for yourself," Indra replied, gesturing towards the house.

The rest of the guards collected the horses and headed off down the street as the smaller group approached the house, following Indra in through the door. The small group entered, shaking the rain off their cloaks. Lexa straightened her back and hardened the set of her jaw, standing as regally as possible.

As the riders pushed back their hooded cloaks Lexa's heart soared, unable to disguise her relief as Aden revealed himself at the front of the group. He met Lexa's eyes, and he sank to one knee in a deep bow in front of the Commander, drawing a dagger from its place on his belt to offer it up to her in his outstretched palms as he bowed his head. The two Natblida flanking him, a boy and a girl, mirrored his bow.

Aden sounded solemn, far older than his few years when he spoke. " _Oso badan yu op Leksa kom Trikru, oso laik ridiyo Heda._ " His voice quavered at the end and his throat bobbed as he swallowed down his anguish. "We three are all that remain of the _Natblida_. Trenton, Celia, and Vilko spilled much _natrona_ blood before they fell."

Lexa stepped forward, looking every inch the Commander, yet inside she could feel her heart break. Memories of the boy, learning eagerly at her feet in the tower, echoed within her as she stood before him and reached down to lay her hand on his shoulder. She claimed the dagger from his hands and placed it within the sheath fastened around her good leg, recognizing the swirled carbon pattern in the steel of the blade. With her other hand she gripped his shoulder in greeting, and rubbed her thumb against the rain-damp surface of his cloak. Tradition-and the painful lessons of the past-dictated that Heda should not show such favoritism or affection to a Natblida. It was weakness, only bound to end in heartbreak. But Lexa could see right through the boy, into the story his haunted eyes and heavy heart told.

"We will avenge them, Aden. It is good you all survived." The moment between Commander and Natblida was broken and she stepped back, allowing her young charges to rise. Her eyes shifted to the two Natblida behind Aden. "Josef and Apru, find Yaku. She is Luna's general, and will assign you quarters. Rest, and wait out the storm there, but stay alert. All of you have served me well. Aden, stay. You have earned the right to be part of what comes next." The two younger children saluted, and filed out of the small house back into the rain.

Lexa surveyed the three warriors standing before her. "The spies and scouts report that Ontari's warriors are making their way through the villages closest to Polis, killing anyone who will not swear loyalty to her in order to secure her grip on the city. She cannot hope to rule through fear and cruelty."

"We saw the aftermath," Aden said darkly, "There's already whispers that she's gone insane. There are some in the forest who try to resist her, but we have lost many, and the people are afraid."

"Who swears fealty to her?"

"The _Azgeda_ armies. _Yujleda_ and _Sangkru_ both are strongly allied with her. They were promised divisions of _Trikru_ territory and resources. _Podakru_ has strong ties to the North, and _Trishana_ follows _Yujleda's_ lead. Those fleeing Polis say that _Louwoda Kliron_ and _Ouskejon_ are weaker in their support. They are afraid to go against their neighbors, but could probably be swayed if promised a stronger alliance."

Lexa's pride at Aden's information gathering was overtaken by her frustration at hearing so many clans listed. "She spills the blood of all the clans and all we can do is scatter before her." Lexa fairly snarled. "I am their Commander. I will not abandon my people in weakness. I should be fighting alongside them."

Indra's words were measured, a trusted general reporting an uncomfortable truth. "Heda, your wounds are severe, and we still don't know the effects of the poison and the removal of the Flame." Aden started at her statement, staring wide-eyed at Lexa. "The Coalition is broken, six weaker clans on the run against seven hunting them. Even if you could fight, we would end up dead before we reached the gates of Polis. Getting killed helps no one, Heda. Throwing your life away would abandon our people all the same."

Lexa worked her jaw in frustration, glaring at Indra but mindful of the truth of her words.

It was Octavia who broke the impasse. "Heda, Aden said that there are people fighting against Ontari, but they're scattered throughout the region. They believe you dead. But if we organize them, give them a reason to fight-"

"If Ontari learns Heda is alive, she will bring hundreds of warriors down onto this place. Not to mention the deception that Titus and Clar-" Indra stopped herself, but Lexa saw that same expression cross her face as when Lexa asked a question Indra did not know how to answer. "-that Titus has put in place will be exposed as a lie. If we have any allies left in Polis, they will quickly be found."

" _Amin_ Indra, we can do this quietly. Send scouts and riders. Use the _Floukru_ smuggling routes. You built this Coalition once, you can build it again. You fought for a new world, Heda, that you and I and all the loyal clans would like to have become reality. Remind them of that vision, and how _Azgeda_ would destroy that world for all. They will add their strength to ours." Octavia's eyes shone in defiance.

Lexa was quiet for many long moments as she weighed each scrap of information. A terrible knowing filled her as she recognized that, once again, her decision would result in death. She reached to her thigh, removing her dagger with its wooden handle and ornately etched blade. She summoned her strength, taking a step towards Indra. Lexa grabbed Indra's hand and placed the dagger into it. "Ride. Your word will be as my own. We will rebuild the alliance among every clan we can. When _Azgeda_ comes for us, we will drown their rage with a thousand warriors. And then we may finally have peace." Lexa's steely gaze flicked away from Indra's, meeting Octavia and Aden's. At that moment, something locked away deep within her stirred, and her lips moved before she could question the source of the words. "Because we deserve more than just surviving."

* * *

The hurricane moved on, but smaller storms lingered in its wake over the next several days. The weather was a double edged sword; it protected Lexa and her Floukru allies, but slowed the progress of their messengers. Trusted Floukru captains and scouts ventured out into the forest and the waterways, seeking out members of the loyal clans. The swiftest and most hardy riders fanned further out, spreading the warning of Azgeda's brutal intent and Lexa's offer of alliance. For some, it would be many weeks before they returned-if they returned-and Lexa would know if the furthest clans would answer her call. In the meantime, they could only wait.

The Commander continued to grow stronger, regaining her strength. The slash wounds that had marred her skin and parted muscle knit back together, as the fire in her veins caused by the poison's lingering effects faded. She insisted on working, arguing that she did not want to grow soft and useless, but Octavia found herself wondering if Lexa was attempting to live up to self-imposed-almost inhuman-expectations. She seemed uncaring about adding more scars to her skin. If her mind was still troubled by the absence of the Flame and the damage its removal had done to her memory, she did not outwardly show it, throwing herself headlong into organizing the resistance with stiff and emotionless resolve.

Luna's most trusted couriers began to arrive, carrying reports from Indra once the rainstorms tapered off. It had been just over a week after Lexa had first sent the messengers out. Lexa pored over them intently, often late into the nights, penning coded replies and strategy to Indra along with pledges of alliance for the most far-flung village leaders to read. On occasion, Octavia would help Lexa with her reports and correspondence, growing her command of martial and diplomatic Trigedasleng phrases as Lexa dictated her responses.

It was what brought them together in Lexa's quarters late in the evening while the rest of the village quietly slept, interspersed with the soft noises of the boats shifting in their berths at the docks. Octavia stood in front of the small fireplace, slowly feeding a sheaf of reports from their spies into the fire. Lexa was hunched over the table, marking hidden paths and lines of advance onto a partial map of Trikru territory and occasionally consulting a scroll opened at her elbow. Her hand stilled in the middle of drawing an arrow past the _Mounon_ …

For a moment, Lexa did not feel like she was in the same room, lost in another emerging memory. She felt as if her face was covered with still-hot blood spatter, her hand trembling on the pommel of her sword as she held back tears, staring into wide blue eyes as her mouth choked on words of betrayal. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, opening them to find herself back in the small Floukru house. Her fingers closed around the pencil in her hand, willing it to stop shaking as yet another missing piece clicked into place within the tangled web of her mind.

"Oktavia, who is Clarke kom Skaikru?" Her mouth was dry as she posed the question.

Octavia froze, holding a sheet of paper above the flames. Lexa watched as the Skaikru woman pulled her hand back and turned to look at directly at her. Her eyes studied Lexa for a moment and her shoulders stiffened as she contemplated her words. Lexa knew that her own unease unsettled the other woman.

"Indra didn't tell you?"

"She did. One of the first Skaikru to come down to the ground, who emerged as a leader within her clan. The Trikru call her Wanheda, Mountain Slayer, after the Battle of the _Mounon_. She is the Skaikru ambassador, and her mother is the Skaikru's leader."

" _Sha, Heda_ …" Octavia's tone was cautious. "What more do you want to know?"

Long moments of silence followed as Lexa turned the pencil over in her hands. "These are facts, yet there seems to be more behind them when I…when I remember them, and I do not know what it means." She sighed, and dropped the pencil onto the table.

"I don't understand."

"Were we…Was she… more?" Lexa blurted, the storm within her battering down the restraints that kept the words inside.

Octavia swallowed, recalling what she had seen in Polis. Once again she was caught between two worlds, struggling with the expectations of a subordinate warrior speaking to her leader, and her blunt inner nature. "Heda, I don't think that I should be the one-"

"No. You are the _Fleimkepa_ now, Oktavia," Lexa softly chided. "Your counsel is valued, and you are permitted to speak your mind behind closed doors. Our people have trusted you with the Flame, their sacred symbol. I trust you to tell me the truth."

Octavia sighed, running her free hand through her hair. "I don't know. She never told me if there was anything more. I think...she was drawn to you, in a way." She laughed bitterly. "You listened to her counsel, after the Skaikru massacre. She defended you, just before the rebellion, when we were in Polis. Back then I thought that she was being irrational. That she just wanted to be treated better than the rest of us. But maybe she was right after all."

There was another long pause as Lexa contemplated Octavia's words, mulling them over. "Where is Clarke now?"

"She stayed behind in Polis. She said she needed to ensure you had time to form a resistance to Ontari." Octavia's gaze dropped. "We haven't received any word from the few contacts we have in Polis if she's alive or…not."

Lexa's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly at the news. She covered up the gesture by busying herself with rolling up the scroll beside her. " _Mochof_ , Oktavia. I think it is time we retire for the evening. The next couriers will likely reach the village before midmorning, and I would like to spar in the training ring before they arrive."

" _Reshop, Heda_." Octavia ducked her head in a salute, recognizing the formal turn in Lexa's voice. Whatever troubled Lexa, Octavia knew she could not be the one to help. Part of her regretted not asking Clarke, regretted being too blind to see the signs, but she gained nothing in such wishes. She bit her lower lip, and made her way out of the door and into the night.

* * *

Octavia's eyes snapped open at the first sound outside her door. She had a knife in her left hand before she'd fully risen out of the chair she'd been sleeping in, rushing to the doorway in two long strides. She yanked the door open with her free hand, hiding the blade in her other out of sight behind the wood, but ready to strike. She narrowed her eyes so that the early morning light would not blind her and give the unknown intruder an advantage…

Indra stood in front of her, the older woman's hand poised in midair, about to knock. Her eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly recovered, looking Octavia up and down with a critical eye as her arm returned to her side.

" _Yu belaik skrish, seken._ "

"Good morning to you too," Octavia replied. She returned the knife to its place in the sheath at her belt. "Heda keeps late hours."

"At least you slept in your armor," Indra said firmly. "You have not forgotten all of my teachings now that you're _Fleimkepa_."

"But I'm still your _seken_ ," Octavia reached back into the room to grab her jacket and sword in its scabbard, shrugging into them as she stepped out of the doorway into the street alongside Indra.

"A _Fleimkepa_ second. No tradition is safe from _Skaikru_ influence." Indra's words were not unkind, but were certainly to the point.

"I didn't see you taking the box when we were in that tower." Octavia could be just as blunt as her teacher.

Indra's smile was wolfish. "My duty lies elsewhere, Oktavia. With my people, on the battlefield. It is much simpler than trying to understand the _Keryon kom Heda_. I prefer wrestling with what I can see. Besides," she turned her back to the younger woman and started down the street in the direction of the training grounds, her voice gruff, "you are a good choice, even if it was made out of necessity. You have a foot on both the sky and the ground. Like the Flame, you are of two places."

Octavia nearly stumbled over her own feet as the weight of Indra's words hit her like a hammer. Her hand briefly drifted to the small lump in her jacket pocket, tracing the lines of the box there. She'd been too busy trying not to get killed and then too busy with the frantic business of starting a rebellion to even begin to think about what it meant that she carried that box.

She covered up her surprise, pushing the thoughts that Indra had triggered to the back of her mind where they lay restless and heavy. "I didn't expect you to be here today, just the usual messenger."

"My last messenger did not make it through. Ontari has put a bounty on the head of any rider carrying _Trikru_ messages." She fairly spat the name as it left her lips. "I decided to come instead to give my report."

They rounded the corner of the last block of houses at the outer edge of the village. Before them was a wide, sandy beach, with the ocean at one edge and scrub grass lining the ridges of tall dunes on the other. Beyond that lay a line of tall sharpened stakes set at an angle, with the straight pine forest stretching off into the distance beyond that. A few low walls made a pair of fighting pits on the beach, and both women could see several figures whirling in combat in each pit as the clash of weapons colliding rang out above the steady throb of the surf along the shore.

Octavia and Indra stopped just short of the low wall that encircled the central fighting pit. In the other pit off to the side, Murphy, Aden, and the Natblida boy, Josef, sparred with staves. Luna stood on the slope of the closest dune, keeping an eye on the proceedings while nonchalantly carving slices from an apple with a wickedly curved filet knife. Lexa stood within the central fighting pit, off to the side. She stood with both feet and the end of a long staff planted in the sand, her eyes tracking every moment of the two fighters sparring in front of her. Her eyes flickered briefly to the two approaching warriors, and she tilted her head in brief acknowledgement before turning back to the fight.

The young Natblida girl-Apru- stood in one corner of the pit, a dagger held ready in each hand. In the opposite corner stood Yaku, the young Floukru general, who gripped a razor-sharp halberd with easy familiarity. Octavia recognized the weapon was nearly identical to the style carried by Lexa's personal guard back in Polis.

The two fighters circled for a moment, eyes searching for an opportunity. The young Natblida gave a shout and broke into a sprint with a bloodcurdling yell. Her jet-black braids ribboned behind her as she charged the other woman. Yaku stood still until the girl was nearly upon her, before she too blurred into motion. Octavia barely caught the movement as she spun the halberd in her hands, sweeping the weighted butt of the weapon into the Natblida's ankles and sending her crashing into the sand at her feet.

The young general's weapon whirled, pointing the tip of the blade at the young girl's chest. She froze, expressionless and unyielding.

"Again," Lexa said, her eyes and voice hard. "Do not telegraph your attack."

The point of the halberd lifted, and Yaku stepped back to her corner as Apru regained her footing. Her grip on her daggers was so tight her knuckles were pale, and she breathed heavily, eyes dark with fury as she reclaimed her corner.

The two fighters began again, circling, looking for an opening. The surf crashed methodically in the background as they drew ever closer in a tighter circle, searching for a weakness.

Yaku's halberd flashed and she advanced towards the Natblida in a lightning fast strike. The younger girl was too quick, and the blade met only empty air. Apru ducked low in one fluid motion, weaving under the blade and dropping to one knee as she struck out with her blades. One edge caught Yaku on the outer calf, cutting through the cloth of her pants leg like butter and drawing a thin line of blood, while Apru reversed the other dagger in her hand, striking her in the back of the knee so hard that it buckled, dropping the general to one knee. If it were open combat and not a sparring bout it would have severed her leg at the knee. Apru's momentum carried her behind the older woman, and she lifted her daggers to strike a fatal blow, letting a grin ghost over her face…

Her moment's hesitation was all Yaku needed, tucking her shoulder and rolling away from the Natblida, who brought her daggers down so forcefully they stabbed into the sand. With all of her weight forward she was unable to dodge Yaku's retaliatory strike as she brought the halberd down in a wide arc, battering the girl across her shoulders. The weapon twisted in her hands and she brought the lower end of the weapon around in another quick circle, smashing underneath Apru's lower jaw with enough force to send the girl sprawling backwards into the sand. The Floukru woman regained her feet quickly, and once again pointed the tip of the halberd's blade against her opponent's chest.

Apru's face screwed up in anger and her hands swept through the sand at her sides in search of her daggers, even as her dark eyes welled with tears. Her fingers found the handle of one of the daggers and she reached out to grasp it.

The dagger went skittering away out of reach across the sand, kicked out of the way by Lexa's leather boot. Apru's eyes tracked from the boot, staring upwards until her field of view was dominated by her Heda coming to stand over her.

"Enough," Lexa said. It was a firm order, brooking no malice, but no argument either. The Commander dismissed Yaku with a pointed look, and the general brought the blade of her weapon up in front of her in salute before walking away in Luna's direction.

Lexa looked down at the fallen Natblida, her features cool, but eyes searching the girl's. Apru's face was a war of emotions and she breathed heavily, fighting back the tears and rage that threatened to spill over, avoiding meeting Lexa's eyes.

"Such mistakes on the battlefield will get you killed, _Natblida_." Lexa's tone was cool.

The young Natblida's voice was a wavering mix of shame and anger. " _Sha_ , Heda."

"But then, you know this Apru. Or else you would not have survived the battles it took to escape Polis."

The girl looked up as Lexa's words cut to the heart of the turmoil within her. The tears finally spilled, and she was stoically silent as they traced down her cheek.

Lexa planted her staff into the sand and then kneeled alongside the girl, taking up the nearby dagger as she did so. Her eyes bored into the girl's and when she spoke her voice was low, was meant only for the two of them. "You cannot fight the enemy in front of you if you are busy fighting the one inside you, _Natblida_. You are worthy of your _Shadjus_. You will lead our warriors and spill the blood of our enemies, but you cannot do that if you let your rage blind you." Lexa held the blade of the dagger loosely, offering the handle to the girl.

" _Mochof_ , Heda." The girl sniffled once and hastily swiped her sleeve over her cheeks, erasing the tracks of her tears as she cleared her throat and scrambled to her feet. "I understand." Her hand closed around the handle of the dagger with a tight grip, taking it from Lexa's hand to place it in the sheath at her belt.

Lexa straightened before her young charge, retrieving her staff from the sand. "Good. Now go, have Aden show you how to disarm a warrior with a staff." Apru bowed and then jogged off to the other training pit, scooping up her dagger along the way.

The Commander turned to Octavia and Indra then, gesturing for Luna to join them as she closed the distance between her and the two other women. Even if there hadn't been pressing business, there was no need to discuss what had just occurred. For Trikru, the matters between Heda and Natblida were not meant to be understood or judged by others. "Indra. Oktavia. What news do you bring?"

Indra looked grave. "We have made contact with many of the groups resisting Ontari and her armies in the area. For now, we have told them to withdraw to safer territory further from Polis, and await your call to gather. Riders have been sent to the furthest clans to see if they will pledge support, but none have returned with an answer. Many were killed before they made it to the borders." Lexa's eyes flashed darkly but Indra continued. "Azgeda continues to move into the forest and hunt our people and allies, Heda. They march north along the border between Trikru and Floukru territory."

"Do they know she is alive?" Luna's brows knit with concern and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"No. They know there is resistance, but not who leads it. Many have died rather than give up that secret."

Lexa's jaw worked in a subtle gesture of frustration and anguish. "They will cut off Floukru from the rest of the Coalition and then circle in for the slaughter."

"Like fish in a net," Luna agreed.

Lexa's eyes flickered to Indra. "How long until they reach us?"

Indra thought for a brief second before replying. "Three days at most. The woods are crawling with advance scouts."

"We have to evacuate the villages." Lexa's mouth drew in a tight line, her eyes meeting Luna's. "I cannot have your people massacred on my behalf."

A wry grin crossed Luna's face. "Yaku and her _gonas_ can lead Azgeda on a merry chase through the swamps. That will give us a little more time. By the time they reach the villages, they will be empty, and my people will be safe in our _hodgedas_ in the sea. It will be much harder for us to get you away from here and deeper into the woods."

"Us?" Lexa's eyebrow arched in surprise. "I thought you were done with fighting? After the Conclave-"

Luna shook her head vehemently. "This is different, Lexa. That was _jus drein jus daun_. If you truly have realized that life is about more than just surviving, and that some things are more precious than revenge, than I am not too proud to say that this is the time when I must fight to save more lives than I must take." Her gaze shifted from Lexa's face, looking over her shoulder to where Yaku waited on the ridge of the dune. Octavia looked down at her hands, pretending she had not seen the gesture.

Lexa studied the faces of the women in front of her for a long moment. She drew herself up straight, gripping the staff in her hand as adrenaline surged through her. "That is our plan then. Get your people to safety, Luna. When the last boat has left, we head west to seek our allies, or our deaths. Whichever finds us first."

* * *

Next Week, in Chapter Eight:

Pike blinked, and then smiled. "So they're weak then. Now is the perfect time to stake our claim on the land before-"

"You're not listening," Clarke interjected, ignoring his scowl. "Whether you believe me or not, the Commander was the only thing standing between our people and death. Ontari and Azgeda rule the Coalition now, and from what I've heard you know exactly what Azgeda does to its enemies." She turned to face her mother and Kane. "There's an army coming for us and no one to keep them from doing to us what you did to their villages."

-  
Trigedasleng:

"Min yu op!": "Enter!"  
"Oso badan yu op Leksa kom Trikru, oso laik ridiyo Heda.": "We serve you, Lexa kom Trikru, the true Commander."  
"Oso na goch emo klin, Aden. Bilaik os emo don na kik thru.": "We will avenge them, Aden. It is good you all survived."  
Azgeda: Ice Nation. Composed mostly of the former northeastern U.S. states: New York and Pennsylvania, as well as half of Vermont, and portions of northern Virginia and West Virginia.  
Yujleda: Broadleaf Clan. Composed mostly of the former southern U.S. states: South Carolina coast, southern Georgia, coastal Alabama, and all of Florida.  
Sangkru: Desert Clan. Largely nomadic, controlling territory in the dead zone encompassing the former northeastern U.S. states: New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, southern Vermont, as well as coastal New York and Pennsylvania.  
Podakru: Lake People. Composed mostly of the former Midwestern U.S. states: Ohio, southern Indiana, and Michigan.  
Trishana: Glowing Forest Clan. Composed mostly of portions of the former southern U.S. states: Alabama, Mississippi, and Tennessee.  
Louwoda Kliron: Shallow Valley Clan. Composed mostly of portions of the former southern U.S. states: Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina.  
Ouskejon: Blue Cliff Clan. Following the ridge of the Appalachian Mountains, and composed mostly of portions of the former U.S. states: Virginia, North Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, and Alabama.  
Amin: Master. Formal term of address from a Second to their First.  
Mounon: Mt. Weather  
Mochof: Thank you  
"Reshop, Heda.": "Goodnight, Commander."  
"Yu belaik skrish, seken.": "You look like shit, Second."  
Keryon kom Heda: Spirit of the Commander  
Shadjus: Nightblood  
Hodgedas: positions, forts, keeps, oil rigs

-  
Art by Foomatic

Author's Note: Re: Lexa's memory loss:

Obviously I don't know a lot medically about memory loss or how it works, but I'm applying what I know + creativity within the bounds of the story...

The way I'm imagining things here is that the more recent, less 'solidified' memories were more likely to be disrupted. The immediate events are the most disrupted; the trauma of her brush with death is leaving a completely empty black hole where her memory of the coup is (much like you see real-world with survivors of accidents/head injuries, etc).

But the big part here is the Flame. In this story, I'm imagining the Flame as largely cybernetic, but with biologic components to help it interface with the brain. (great real world research and prototypes on this) Because of this, it can be affected by poison, toxins, etc. While it cannot control its host, when faced with destruction, it employs defensive measures, because it has to survive in order to preserve its function (saving humanity) and it can't do that if it's fried. In Chapter 4 Titus says that it has killed two Commanders previously in this manner. So, Lexa nearly died from that—never mind the actual poison and knife wounds- and no one knows if the Flame is corrupted or okay. And no Commander has ever survived its removal, so while her memories are there, it's a mess. For her, it's like having a word on the tip of your tongue and not being able to remember how or why or what that is.


	8. Chapter 8

Comments, critiques, everything and anything welcome in the comments. You can find me on tumblr msmayhem1515. Enjoying the story? Feel free to tweet, reblog, or otherwise share the link to it!

Warnings: References to blood, canon-typical fight violence, profanity.

Note: I deeply apologize, but unfortunately my work schedule has become a nightmare, leaving me little time to write. I am running out of 'banked' chapters, and while I am hoping I can stay ahead and maintain a weekly posting schedule, I am not certain I will be able to. Rest assured, the story is mapped out, and I am writing as fast as I can, but unfortunately real life has other plans. I beg your understanding, and your patience; you all have been amazing and I don't want to let anyone down! I will do my best to post chapters as soon as they are available.

* * *

The rain pelted down with merciless force, feeling like tiny shards of glass against Clarke's skin as she leaned against the howling wind. The force of the storm bent the immense pine trees around her and somewhere in the distance she could hear a loud crack as one succumbed to the storm, crashing down to the ground.

She remembered what hurricanes had looked like from the Ark. From up above they had seemed awe-inspiring-almost beautiful-and their destructive power had been a distant concept. Now that she found herself in the teeth of one, she understood that there was nowhere to run.

Clarke had spent nearly two days on the run from Polis. Azgeda patrols had been the greatest threat for the first day, but once the hurricane bore down, nature became both her greatest ally and biggest threat. The same rain and wind that drove away the enemy made it incredibly difficult for her to travel. Several times she had needed to double back, confronted with raging torrents of water rushing down the valleys and hollows that made the way forward completely impassable. Despite the three months she had spent in the forest, under the cover of night and in the fury of the storm even familiar landmarks and pathways were hard to find and she found herself lost more than once.

The sun, hidden behind thick layers of clouds, had just slipped below the horizon when the sound of voices shouting carried over the howling wind and she dropped to the ground. Peering through the brush, she could see a pair of cloaked figures bearing torches and mounted on immense warhorses making their way down the remnants of the nearby path. Clarke's decision to stay off that same path probably saved her life; in the storm she wouldn't have seen them until too late, and she would have been completely caught out in the open.

Her survival instincts took over and she quickly scanned the area around her. She caught sight of a pine tree only a few steps away that had a few branches within grabbing distance from the ground. It was a little closer to the path than she wanted, but it gave her an advantage. But only if she moved quickly…

She raced over to the tree, ducking down low behind the undergrowth as her pack beat against her back. She heard the riders draw closer, cursing the storm and their horses as they drew even nearer. Adrenaline seared through her body when she jumped up, catching hold of the lowest tree branch and hauling herself up on top of it. She climbed up higher into the boughs and then crouched, catlike, on a thick branch overhanging the path. Her heart slammed in her chest as she drew her dagger and held on to her perch.

The first rider passed directly below her, adjusting the bow slung over his back so that he could draw the hood of his cloak further over his bowed head to protect him from the rain. The second rider moved more slowly as he approached, holding his torch aloft and peering into the undergrowth to either side of the path. Clarke held her breath as he neared the tree, coming close enough that she could see the raised weals of the Azgeda clan markings on his face. She willed herself to be completely silent and still.

A strong gust of wind shivered through the tree and the limb bowed and trembled. Clarke's reflexes were keen and she steadied her balance, regaining her grip on the branch. But rain spilled from her cloak where it had pooled within the folds, sluicing down onto the man's shoulder and neck.

He muttered angrily and dropped the reins with his free hand, swiping at the wetness that trickled into his armor…and looked up directly at her. His eyes widened, and in the torchlight Clarke saw confusion, and then recognition come over him as he recognized her silhouetted against the boughs.

" _Hei!_ " His hand dropped down to the sword at his waist.

Clarke flung herself out of the branches directly at him. He had barely gotten his fingers around the sword's grip when she tackled him, driving the knife down with all her strength. He grunted as the blade slid into the left side of his chest just above his ribs and the gap in his armor. Clarke kept her grip on both the dagger and her enemy as momentum and their combined weight caused the horse to topple to the ground. Rain and mud churned as the horse thrashed, neighing in terror while Clarke grappled with the man. She pulled on the dagger to free it as his fists pummeled her ribs and fingers clawed at the pack on her back. The blade flashed, finding his throat, and his arms flopped into the mud with a sickening squelch.

She scrambled away from his body, dodging the flailing hooves of his horse as it struggled to rise. Above the thrashing animal she could see the other warrior jump from his mount, sprinting towards her and drawing his bow. She ducked at the same time the animal in front of her rose, and its scream tore through the air as an arrow thudded into its side. It bolted in a beeline for the man, striking out with its hooves and trampling him into the muck before disappearing into the forest.

Clarke staggered to her feet, gripping the dagger tightly in her hand and cautiously closing the distance between them. The man moaned, his voice slurring with pain as his foot twitched spasmodically. The torches had both been extinguished in the fight, but even in the darkness Clarke could make out the wet gleam surrounding the white slash of broken bone above the man's temple. Bile rose in her throat, but she came closer, snatching up his bow and quiver from where they had fallen next to him. She jumped back quickly and turned her back to the scene.

She took a few steps before standing still, her heart hammering a frantic beat within her chest as her hands shook from the adrenaline coursing through her. The rain pelted her, dripping down her sodden clothes and she could smell the heavy scent of blood and mud clinging to her like a cloud.

The snorting of the second man's warhorse drew her into the present and she shook her head to clear her thoughts. It stood near the side of the road and pawed nervously at the ground. Her survival instincts kicked in again, and for a moment she considered moving the bodies into the undergrowth to cover her tracks. But the rain was already washing away the tracks in the road, and she knew from experience that meat left in the open rarely lay undisturbed for long in the forest, even with a storm. She stepped to the side of the road, reaching down to grab a large handful of wet grass, wiping the blade of her dagger clean and replacing it in its sheath at her belt. She scrubbed her hands clean with another handful of grass, pushing aside the churning of her stomach as she slung the bow and quiver over her shoulder, adjusting them along with the pack on her back.

Her movements were careful as she approached the warhorse. She slowly approached from the side with her hands open. Shushing noises fell from her lips, more an attempt to gather her own courage than to soothe the beast. The mount tossed its head and whickered before it was still, allowing her to gather the reins in her hand. With a practiced motion, she planted her foot into the stirrup and climbed up into the saddle. Clarke knew that she needed to find shelter soon; she could not stay out in the storm circling around blindly and crossing paths with more Azgeda patrols. She didn't look back as she tapped her heels against the horse's sides and urged the animal up the road.

The hours blurred together as the storm raged and the inky darkness of the night pressed in around her. She peered through the rain, following the trail of subtle, yet familiar, landmarks. As the adrenaline drained from her system her temperature dropped and she shivered, soaked to the bone and utterly exhausted just as a familiar rock outcropping emerged from the gloom. The jagged face of limestone rose several stories above the ground, partially concealed by enormous pine trees. Clarke slipped from the back of the horse and onto the ground. While the animal would ease her journey, leaving it nearby would give away her hiding spot.

" _Mochof, loukot._ " She smiled wistfully and stepped back, slapping the horse's hindquarters and watching it slip away into the forest and out of sight.

That done, she turned to the outcropping. Securing the bow, quiver, and pack on her back, she walked up to one of the trees adjacent to the rock, her memory certain that this was the right place. The cliff face was far too sheer and jagged for anyone to climb it, but she'd figured out a trick to it during one hunting trip not long into her three months in the forest. Clarke scrambled up a series of broken branches, the wood barely large enough to gain a purchase on. She climbed higher and higher up the rain-slick boughs, keeping her thoughts on the path up and not the way the tree swayed with the wind. Just over halfway up the tree, she spotted a subtle gouge in the thick bark of the trunk. Turning slightly, she stepped out carefully onto the thick branch under her feet with the trunk at her back. She could barely see the rock through the darkness and sheeting rain but took a deep breath and leapt out into space.

She hung there for a moment, hurtling through the night air, before landing solidly on a narrow ledge in the rock face, just wide enough for her to stand. Relying on memory and feel, she ducked into a narrow crack in the outcropping, barely squeezing through as her pack scraped the rock. She shuffled sideways a few steps, following the tiny passage as it weaved slightly before widening so that she could walk normally, only needing to stoop slightly. She crept forward a dozen paces more as her boots scuffed over the smooth rock beneath her before she felt rather than saw the rock walls widen even further into a wide-open space.

She took a moment to reach into a pocket of her pack and pulled out a small flashlight. When she switched it on, the tiny light illuminated the small cavern around her, and she sighed with relief.

The space was not much bigger than her cell on the Ark, worn into the rock by eons of erosion. A narrow pallet of furs, a few bags of dried goods, water skins and clothes, and a small fire pit filled up most of the room. Charcoal drawings dotted the smooth walls of the cavern; animals, people, and views of the Earth from high above blending together in a tableau. A thin layer of dust lay over everything, reassuring Clarke that no one had been here since she'd last left on her search for a panther to hunt.

Clarke brushed away the worst of the dust, starting a small fire in the fire pit with a bit of dry tinder and wood from the pile in the corner. The cave was perfect; the smoke trickled up and away through tiny cracks in the ceiling, while the winding entrance meant no light was visible from outside. Clarke took the bow and quiver from her shoulders and leaned them against the wall before lifting the pack from her back and gently setting it next to the pallet. She unbuckled her dagger but kept it within reach before stripping out of her sodden and filthy clothes then laying them near the fire to dry. With a grimace, she looked down at her ribs, where dark bruises from the Azgeda warrior's punches had begun to form. She ignored the pain from her sides as she shivered, naked, for a moment before rummaging in the bags and slipping into a set of rough spun, but dry, clothing. Lastly, she pulled a few packets of dried meat and berries from another of the bags in the corner as well as a small bearskin from the sleeping pallet. Wrapping the fur over her shoulders, she sat in front of the fire, quaking as the heat from the small fire leached into her tired body.

She sat there for some time, her arms wrapped around her knees, moving only to bring a few handfuls of food to her lips and staring into the fire as she ate. The sudden silence was almost deafening after so long being in the center of conflict. From the moment Roan had captured her and brought her to Polis, every moment had seemed to be heavy with danger, or struggle.

Well, not every moment…

 _"That's why I…that's why you're you."_

The memories hit her quickly, like a tidal wave. The softness of Lexa's skin under her fingertips, and the way her eyes had gleamed gold-green in the hazy light of the setting sun streaming in through the window as she had sat on the bed, looking up at Clarke…

The salt of Lexa's tears on Clarke's lips and the way that she'd sobbed as Clarke nodded that she was not only forgiven, but loved…

But the memories shifted and changed, their beauty mutating into horror within Clarke's mind.

The way the black blood had spattered on the concrete floor of the throne room…stained the white cloth in Titus' hands…the white furs on the bed…

The way Lexa had dangled, on the verge of death, in Indra's arms as they had turned away from Clarke, disappearing into the unknown.

"No!" Clarke exclaimed, fighting against the raw wave of fear and grief that scrabbled against her ribs. Her words reverberated from the rock, leaving her sitting there small and alone. She could not allow herself to be lost to those dark thoughts. Yet, something within her was weak, crying out for comfort. She reached one hand out from the fur draped over her, opening her pack and reaching inside. Her hands closed over the familiar shape of her sketchbook and drew it out of the pack.

Clarke lost herself in the drawings on each page. A fruit seller, at the Polis market. A boy with a drum, banging out a melody. A bodyguard, gripping his spear and glaring over the top of a faceguard made of bones.

She froze when she came to the last page. Lexa's sleeping form confronted Clarke from the paper. Her fingertips reached out, ghosting over the charcoal lines of her peaceful lover. Her hand drifted to the short length of severed braid tucked in the spine of the book. For a moment Clarke was tempted to touch it, to dive deeper into the memories as if it would let her reach out and touch Lexa herself, but she stopped herself. It would only hurt more, she knew, as hot tears slid silently down her cheeks to splash onto the corner of the paper below.

Gently she wiped the tears off the page with the pad of her thumb before closing the book and replacing it back into her pack. She laid down on the pallet, wrapped herself in the furs, and surrendered to misery as the steely resolve of Wanheda fled from the storm within her heart. Her sobs filled the small cave until exhaustion claimed her and she fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The journey to Arkadia took several days longer than usual. While the hurricane had abated, smaller storms slowed Clarke's progress before the weather eventually cleared. Trails and roads had flooded and the terrain over the mountains was challenging on foot. Several times she found herself second-guessing her decision to release the captured warhorse. Avoiding villages and trading posts added to the journey, but it meant that she was able to avoid being spotted. She'd managed to avoid a handful of Azgeda patrols, and fortunately hadn't seen anyone since nearing Skaikru territory. With the rebellion, Lexa's apparent death, and Trikru hunted by their enemies, there was no blockade to stop her. However, she knew the most dangerous part of her journey was now in front of her.

She sighed heavily from where she balanced in the branches of a tall pine near the edge of the treeline. Arkadia lay front of her and across the wide clearing. Her mother and Kane had briefly described the improvements and plans for the settlement when they had met with her the day she became Skaikru ambassador, but seeing the sprawling complex in person made her pause. From her elevated perch, she could see that ramshackle buildings had sprung up around the central Ark module, and smoke rose from what looked like several outlying workshops. Several dozen people labored in garden plots around the buildings. But most concerning was the imposing wall built of metal barriers that ringed the entire compound, dotted every few hundred feet with elevated guard platforms. Even at this distance she could see that every platform was manned by a man or woman cradling a rifle. She remembered bitterly how Anya had been killed; while she clearly had no desire to be shot out of confusion, simply showing up in the center of the camp after sneaking in would not help her cause any. Additionally, she needed the secret entrance Octavia had showed her to remain a secret. Just in case, she told herself.

Clarke climbed down, sighing again before she set her shoulders, willing herself into motion. She stepped from the trees onto the main road leading straight to Arkadia's main gate. She raised her hands up high above her head, showing her open palms and walking slowly in a straight line along the tire tracks in the dirt. She made it less than halfway across the distance from the gate to the clearing before a voice rang out in a shouted command.

"Hey! Stop right there!"

Clarke raised her hands even higher, slowing her pace but not stopping. "It's okay! It's Clarke Griffin! I'm Skaik-"

The gunshot rang out at nearly the same time as she heard zinging hiss of the bullet passing just over her head.

"I said stop! On your knees! Move and I shoot!" The guard's scream was frantic. Somewhere, an alarm bell started to clang.

Clarke gulped as her heart beat frantically within her chest. She stared forward, her shoulders aching as she kept her hands up in the air. Her gaze locked onto the face of the guard at his station above the gate, their eyes meeting over the barrel of his rifle. She dared not even move a muscle even as her mind raced.

Keten had warned her that not all was what it seemed in Arkadia, as if Pike's massacre of a Trikru village was not proof enough. But Clarke had thought she could bring everyone to see reason, to deal with the extremists within their own ranks on their own, especially considering the larger threat from Ontari. But immediate warning shots? On one of their own? The thought filled her with dread.

The gates ahead of her swung open with a creak, and a group of six black-clad guards stepped out onto the road, each one of them training their rifles at Clarke as they closed the distance between them. A tall, dark-skinned man strode confidently behind the group with his hand resting on the butt of a pistol holstered at his thigh. Clarke searched the faces of each guard as they drew close, but didn't recognize any of them.

"My name is Clarke Griffin," Clarke said as they came to a halt less than ten feet from where she knelt. "I came here to-"

"Shut up and drop your weapons. Slowly."

She clenched her jaw in anger but gradually lowered her hands, pulling the bow and quiver off and tossing them aside, followed by her dagger. A guard kicked the blade further away, even though there was no way she could have reached for it before they could fire.

"We know who you are, Clarke Griffin," the tall dark-skinned man said, grinning mirthlessly. "Or do you prefer if I call you Wanheda?" He said the Trigedasleng name as if it were a slur.

"Clarke works," she ground out acidly. "You must be Pike."

His smiled widened but his eyes were cold. "Yes, though I prefer Chancellor Pike." He stepped backwards, catching the eye of the closest guard. "Arrest her."

"Wait what?!" She started to drop her hands, but froze when the metallic sound of a rifle being readied behind her cut through the air. One of the guards slung his rifle, reaching for a pair of restraints at his belt. "I'm one of you! I'm an Ambassador-"

"Not any more!" Pike shouted aggressively. One hand pointed straight at her, but the other tightened on the grip of his pistol. "We don't recognize your alliance with the murdering savage they call a commander! You're her puppet, and a traitor to your people! I should just-"

"Clarke!"

Everyone turned to look back in the direction of Arkadia, and Clarke gasped when she caught sight of her mother running down the road towards them. Kane followed a few paces behind her. Both of their faces were tightly drawn with worry.

"What are you doing?!" Abby said with barely contained anguish, glaring at Pike and the guards as she and Kane approached. "That's my daughter!"

"She's under arrest."

"Under what charge?" Kane pressed.

"Treason," Pike replied. "She's spent the past three months in the capital of the enemy. She's an advisor to their leader. She probably came here to report back on our preparations."

"Like hell she did," Abby growled. "Even if that wasn't a blatant lie, you have absolutely no proof. We still have laws, Charles. Her duty was to represent us to the Grounder clans; to protect us!"

"And look how well that turned out." His voice dripped with scorn. "Our people trapped within a blockade all so that some tyrant of a girl can murder us on a whim and-"

"Lexa's dead!" Clarke's shout cut through the angry voices like a blade.

Every single one of the people surrounding her instantly turned to stare at Clarke, stunned by her outburst.

"The Commander…she's dead? How?" Kane's tone was heavy with mournful desperation.

Clarke gulped, slowly lowering her hands to her sides. She committed herself to the partial lie, channeling the fury in her heart to cover up the deception. "Lexa is dead. Killed when the other clans rebelled. Because she refused to carry out retribution against you for massacring hundreds of her people, as their tradition demanded, and showed mercy instead." Her words were pure venom and her gaze bored into Pike's, as if she could make him feel a fraction of the pain she had endured just by the intensity of her stare. "There is no more blockade. There is no more treaty. There is no more Coalition."

Pike blinked, and then smiled. "So they're weak then. Now is the perfect time to stake our claim on the land before-"

"You're not listening," Clarke interjected, ignoring his scowl. "Whether you believe me or not, the Commander was the only thing standing between our people and death. Ontari and Azgeda rule the Coalition now, and from what I've heard you know exactly what Azgeda does to its enemies." She turned to face her mother and Kane. "There's an army coming for us and no one to keep them from doing to us what you did to their villages."

"We've fought them before. If they want to taste lead, I'm happy to oblige." Pike gestured to the guard holding the restraints. "Get those cuffs on her and get her in a cell. We've got preparations to make."

"Wait!" Abby leapt forward, completely heedless of the guns all around her. "Please, give her to me. I can ensure she doesn't leave."

Kane spoke up as well. "Under the Exodus Charter, prisoners can be held under house arrest and put to hard labor until trial."

Pike's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but for minor crimes. Treason is hardly a minor crime. I'm within rights to just execute her," Abby's eyes widened in horror and she stepped forward, " No matter what you think of me I'm not a monster, Abby."

"Where could she possibly go?" Kane asked, spreading his hands. "Arkadia is sealed up tight and guarded twenty-four-seven. Even if she escaped, she'd be running right into the arms of people who want all of us dead. Let the girl stay under house arrest with her mother and work in the compound until a trial can be held."

The Chancellor mulled over the answer for several long seconds. He scowled, straightening his shoulders as he looked at each of them in turn. "Fine. Until a trial can be held. But don't mistake my kindness for weakness." His eyes met Clarke's and his voice was cold. "If you so much as step a foot on the other side of Arkadia's walls, you'll be executed."

Clarke said nothing, forcing herself to tilt her head in acknowledgement through the rage coursing within her. Confident in his victory, Pike turned his back and gestured for the guards to follow as he marched back up the road to the main gate.

Abby let out a small cry, rushing forward to envelop Clarke in a tight hug. The younger woman wrapped her arms around her mother, briefly comforted by the gesture before she withdrew.

"Mom…" Clarke's voice wavered for a moment before she tamped down on the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. "I tried to stop it but it all happened so fast."

"It's okay, Clarke. I know you believed in what you were trying to accomplish. I'm just thankful you're alive." The grief at the alternative clung to the edges of Abby's voice.

"What happened? How could it have fallen apart so quickly?" Kane asked, still clearly stunned by Clarke's revelations.

"I didn't tell you the whole truth."

One of the guards interrupted the conversation, shouting across the clearing at the three of them from his station back atop the gate. "Hey! Back inside the walls!"

Kane waved towards the gate in acknowledgement, taking up a slow pace with the two women as they made their way up the road. "Whatever you need to tell us Clarke, tell us now. Once we get inside those walls none of us is safe. Pike has ears and eyes in every corner of the camp."

"Lexa isn't dead."

To their credit, neither Kane nor her mother turned, only flinching in surprise. "Where is she?" Kane murmured.

As much as Clarke wanted-needed- to trust them, she refused to reveal everything. "It's better you don't know. I'm not even sure myself. If she survived the escape, I know she'll gather what's left of our allies and fight Ontari. I came here to warn our people, and to gain support against the Ice Nation." A tendril of worry squeezed around Clarke's heart. Even if Indra, Ontari, and Murphy had escaped with their precious cargo, Indra had said those who survived the toxin often wished they hadn't. Retaking Polis and defeating Ontari would take an army stronger than the Coalition-and its Commander-had been at their peak.

"We'll have to trust that the Commander can gather an army in time," Abby whispered, "although you'll find very few allies in this settlement to support rebellion, Clarke."

"Why? What's happened? Not everyone can support Pike." Clarke's fist tightened in anger.

Kane grimaced as they entered the gates to Arkadia. "Jaha is back, and ever since then there's been…strange things going on."

"I don't understand."

"It's easier to show you, rather than explain. But for now, rest. I'll see you in the morning." He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly as the gates clanged shut behind them.

* * *

It took a moment for Clarke to get her bearings when she awoke. She had grown so used to the sight of the morning sky overhead, or the stone and wood of Trikru buildings, that seeing the cold metal of the Ark walls was jarringly unfamiliar. She bit back a bitter laugh at the realization that the surroundings she'd grown up with her entire life now seemed menacingly alien and artificial.

She got out of the narrow bed and crossed the few steps to the tiny shower alcove in the corner of the room. The water was freezing and she hurried through the motions of bathing. A small stack of clean clothes waited on a small table in the room, and two notes rested on top of them. She set the pieces of paper aside as she dressed, turning her attention to them after she'd tugged her shirt over her head. Clarke recognized her mother's handwriting on the smaller note on top:

 _Clarke,_

 _I tried to have you assigned to the infirmary, but Pike insisted on this instead. See me when you're able._

 _Love, Mom_

She set the note aside and picked up the larger piece of paper, which was covered in blocky official type:

 _Clarke Griffin_

 _Prisoner #319_

 _You are hereby placed on house arrest status pending trial for treason. You are subject to the restrictions named below. Failure to comply will result in revocation of status and immediate and full prosecution under the Emergency Protocols of the Exodus Charter._

 _-Hard labor in the agricultural sector_

 _-Restriction to Arkadia when not performing labor detail_

 _BY ORDER OF THE CHANCELLOR_

Clarke scowled and murmured a curse under her breath, balling up the paper and angrily throwing it under the bedframe. Leave it to Pike to use the trappings of Ark bureaucracy to control her when war was raging. She knew he felt that it was a legitimizing gesture, but it just seemed so incredibly petty.

Her scowl only deepened when she opened the metal door to her room and laid eyes on the individual leaning against the wall at the other side of the passageway, watching as he straightened at the sight of her.

"Clarke, we need to talk." Bellamy's jaw set in a hard line.

Clarke shoved her hands in the pocket of her thin jacket pointedly, not breaking her stride as she walked down the hallway. "Are you going to handcuff me again, Bellamy? I'm already under arrest."

"No, I just want to talk."

"Well I don't. Not this time." She took a deep breath, but still anger bubbled up within her, threatening to boil over.

"I know a lot has happened. But what I said last time was true, even if you don't want to hear it. We can't trust the Grounders, and Pike knows how to-"

Something inside Clarke snapped, and her anger boiled over. She immediately stopped and whirled around, squaring up in front of Bellamy. Her voice was as cold and hard as iron when she spoke.

"No, Bellamy. Pike's started a war, something you were a part of, all of which led to Lexa getting killed!"

"This war was already started, Clarke! Lexa started it! And I'll fight if I have to in order to protect my people! This is who I am! You walked away, I didn't get that luxury."

"Don't even begin to blame this on me, Bellamy!" Clarke raised her hand, jabbing the point of her finger into his chest. "I wasn't the one who went out onto that field with Pike and slaughtered an entire village in their sleep! I wasn't the one that pulled that trigger! You did! Don't blame your mistakes on me. Not this time." She jabbed again, pushing him back into the unyielding metal of the wall. "I came back because you, and our people, can only seem to end lives. I was trying to save them, to build peace! With Lexa. We almost had that, and you took that away. So don't you dare blame that on me," she growled, pushing him into the wall once more and away from her. "We're outnumbered here, and we can either live peacefully and build something to last with the Grounders, or we can die. We don't have to fight, or have people suffer and starve. Pike doesn't seem to understand that."

"Is there a problem here?"

Both Bellamy and Clarke turned towards the sound of the interruption. Lincoln stood in the middle of the hallway a few paces away, looking between the two combatants.

"What are you doing here, Lincoln?" Bellamy pushed himself away from the wall, glaring at the Grounder man and then Clarke as he adjusted the front of his shirt.

"The foreman told me to get Clarke. Said if I didn't get her for her shift in the fields in the next ten minutes we'd both get a double shift tacked on." His gaze met Bellamy's unflinchingly, his hand flexing at his sides.

"We're not finished," Bellamy frowned at Clarke and then Lincoln as he walked away down the hallway. Clarke glowered at his back until he disappeared around the corner.

Lincoln walked up, standing protectively at her side. "Let's go." They fell into step together, moving in the opposite direction as Bellamy, making their way for the exit.

"Good timing," Clarke huffed. "Another minute and I probably would have decked him."

The corners of Lincoln's mouth twitched upwards in a small smile. "I don't think they can punish you any more than they already have. It would have been worth another week of double shifts on half rations to see that."

They were quiet for a moment as they walked, and then Clarke glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her voice just above a whisper. "Octavia told me that you were a member of the guard. That you'd volunteered. Now you're on a hard labor gang? What happened?"

"Pike," Lincoln fairly spat. "He canceled any plans that would have ended cooperation and integration between Trikru and Skaikru. He said that I was a security risk and to prevent sabotage, sentenced me administratively to hard labor." The look on his face was fairly murderous.

They reached the door of the Ark, stepping out into the sunlight. Lincoln nudged her elbow, jerking his chin in the direction of a small group of people gathered near the rear gate across the complex. Most of them held crude shovels and picks slung over their shoulder, but three black-clad guards stood among them.

" _Wanheda, Oktavia ste kik raun?_ " His voice was a low whisper, his lips barely moving as he stared straight ahead. It was as if he were afraid speaking his mother tongue would bring down further retribution from their captors.

" _Sha, Lincoln. Em-de laik Fleimkepa. Em kamp raun trigeda kom Lexa; em ste kik raun._ "

He glanced sidelong at her, a brief look of relief crossing his eyes. " _Yu gada strat in?_ "

" _Mebi. Ai gaf oso lukots_."

"That's not an easy question to answer," Lincoln switched back to English as they neared the group. He nodded to the shift foreman, picking up a shovel from a nearby pile and handing another to Clarke. "I'll show you after our shift." His gaze was wary, as if there was more that he wanted to say, but couldn't. Not with so many eyes watching them.

"Okay," Clarke agreed, taking the shovel from his hands and falling into line as the work gang made their way out of the gate and into the fields. Anxiety wound its way through her limbs. There was clearly something going on in Arkadia even more dangerous than Pike's plans for the future, and until she knew what that was, she felt like she was wandering blind through a darkened room full of traps just waiting to be sprung.

The thoughts worried her throughout the day, as the sun beat down hot upon them as they labored in the fields not far from the walls of Arkadia. As the criminals in the group, Clarke and Lincoln were forced to complete the most difficult tasks. Breaking the earth apart and pulling up roots and rocks ahead of the rest of the workers was backbreaking work, and they got only enough water to make sure they did not collapse completely. The guards were a constant presence, and one of the guards in particular enjoyed tormenting her as she worked. She'd been carrying a boulder the size of a large toddler that she'd shoveled out of the ground when it slipped from her grasp, sending her sprawling to the dirt with a smashed hand.

The guard was there in an instant, his face red as he screamed. "Get the fuck up! Fucking useless now, aren't you?!"

"What the hell is your problem?!" Clarke picked herself up off the ground, wiping the soil from her eyes.

"Farm station. I lost my wife and son to those murderers, and I'll be damned if I won't be there to watch you swing, traitor. Ambassador, huh? I bet you did more for that grounder bitch than just kneel," he leered. "You're just lucky I'm not the only guard out here…never know when some accident would happen and we lose a worker outside of the wall…" He grinned menacingly, toying with the safety on his rifle as Clarke's heart hammered in terror.

"Dave, stop fucking around over there and get back to your OP!" the foreman yelled, and Clarke sighed in relief as her tormentor wandered back to the group. She labored furiously, reminding herself that her people were worth saving…

As the hours passed, Clarke found herself too tired to mull over scenarios and outcomes, and her mind fell blank as exhaustion settled into her limbs. It was no small relief when the foreman whistled sharply, just before the sinking sun hit the tops of the trees.

"Not long 'till it's dark, crew. It's not safe to be out any longer. Move out!"

The group trudged back to the gates, stacking their picks and shovels in a neat pile inside one of the outbuildings. The guards and other workers wandered back to the living quarters, while Clarke followed Lincoln to the main dining hall. It was only the promise of information that kept Clarke moving; not even a real meal seemed appealing after the day's backbreaking work. She could barely hold up the metal tray as she ladled what looked like some sort of anemic vegetable stew and coarse bread onto the tray, sitting down heavily at a table near the back of the room next to Lincoln.

"Now watch," he muttered, hiding his words behind a bite of bread, feigning disinterest in his surroundings. Clarke moved the food around her tray in between tired bites, casting subtle glances around her.

She didn't have long to wait. The sporadic trickle of people entering the building became a steady stream, and a crowd started to gather at the opposite end of the cavernous room, near the large empty space in the center of the Ark's makeshift market. It seemed to Clarke as if more than a quarter of Arkadia's population had gathered. They chatted quietly amongst themselves as they stood, smiling pleasantly but also looking reflective.

"Good evening, everyone." Thelonious Jaha's voice was pleasant as he walked into the room, making a beeline directly for the crowd. Raven trailed a few steps behind him, and as she looked around the room, Clarke caught her eye with a small wave. Clarke's heart sank as Raven smiled coolly at her, but turned her back to where the blonde woman sat as she greeted people alongside Jaha.

Clarke felt the feeling of unease increase. For all of their difficulties, it was unlike Raven to brush her off, especially after so long. Surely Raven didn't reject her like Bellamy did, she wondered.

"Please, be seated, friends." Jaha took up a place at one side of the room, spreading his hands in welcome as he smiled widely. The crowd shifted and many people kneeled in neat rows, Raven among them in the front row. Others, near the back of the group, hung back reluctantly with an almost wistful longing. All eyes turned to Jaha when he spoke.

"Be welcome. Be at peace. Be loved. Be without pain. Be here with me, in the City of Light. Many of you have taken the key to the City of Light, and know this place. You have found the path to peace, and away from all pain. Away from even death. Close your eyes now, and enter the City." He raised his hands skyward, and the people kneeling before him closed their eyes, slipping into meditation.

Clarke glanced at Lincoln as she whispered. "He sounds insane. What happened to him out there?"

"I don't know. He came back preaching about this City. Not many people believed it, but each time there are more that come to these meetings. And more fools kneeling." He scowled.

"And Pike allows this?"

"Why wouldn't he? Jaha and his followers don't get in the way of what Pike does, and they are easily controlled. They listen to his stupidity and call it enlightenment, and ignore the way the world burns around them." He shook his head.

Jaha's voice rose to a feverish pitch, his eyes betraying the fire of conviction that burned within him. "Now there are those of you that are unsure, that are afraid." His glance swept over the individuals standing at the back of the crowd, making eye contact with not only each of them, but sweeping over the rest of the individuals in the dining hall. His eyes lingered on Clarke for several long seconds, and when he continued, he seemed to be speaking straight at her.

"I understand your fear. I too, felt that fear. I ran from it-from the Ark above, through the sand wastes of the Dead Zone-but I could not escape it. And the pain…so much death and loss surrounding all of us. There is much about this new world that terrifies us, and inflicts terrible wounds on us. There is no shame in that fear or that pain. But ask yourself why you need to persist in your suffering. Think about how much better life can be without those burdens you carry. Escape your pain, and let me be the one to lead us to peace."

Clarke felt a ripple of shock travel throughout her body as she recognized those words. Ontari had said something very similar at her Ascension…

He finished his sermon with zeal, scanning the faces of those assembled before him. And then he kneeled, quietly folding his hands in his lap and closing his eyes. Silence hung in the air for several long minutes. Then a man at the back of the crowd set his shoulders and walked through the rows of kneeling supplicants until he stood in front of Jaha, crouching down on one knee in front of the former chancellor.

"I'm ready. Show me."

Jaha opened his eyes and smiled beatifically. He reached into his pocket, and the moment he withdrew his hand, Clarke's feeling of unease skyrocketed.

The former chancellor held a familiar small light blue hexagonal chip between thumb and forefinger for a moment before he placed it gently in the man's open mouth. Just as Clarke had seen with Ontari, the man closed his eyes and was completely still. His eyes flickered behind closed lids, and his lips moved slightly, as if he were talking to someone in a dream. After several moments of this, the man smiled and looked behind Jaha's shoulder briefly as if someone stood in the empty place. He slowly got to his feet, taking a place among the rows of kneeling worshippers as another woman knelt in front of Jaha and opened her mouth.

Clarke ducked her head, her whisper barely audible. "Is it always like this?"

"Yes, each time. More every night they meet. The people who take his key act very strangely afterwards."

"I've seen this before," Alarm crept into the edges of her voice.

"Where?"

"Polis. At Ontari's Ascension."

Lincoln opened his mouth to reply but quickly closed it as Jaha and Raven stood, looking directly at him and Clarke before making a beeline for their table. "Heads up."

"Clarke, it's good to have you back with us," Jaha greeted, sliding into a seat across from Clarke and Lincoln. Raven stood just behind him, smiling easily.

"Jaha, it's…interesting…to see all of the changes to Arkadia since I left." Clarke replied, keeping her tone neutral as her eyes met her friend's. "Raven, good to see you." She looked down pointedly at the other woman's leg. "No more brace? My mom must have-"

"Nope, not your mom. Jaha fixed it. He took the pain away when she couldn't." She beamed happily.

Clarke did her best to keep the look of surprised dismay she felt from showing. "Huh. Well, glad to hear it, I suppose."

"Glad you're back, Clarke." The mechanic smiled. "Pike didn't give all the details, but word spread you were back. Sucks about the charges."

I'm sure it's all just a simple misunderstanding," Jaha added. "I could speak to the Chancellor on your behalf, maybe negotiate a pardon."

Clarke's skin nearly crawled at the suggestion. "That won't be necessary. I'm sure my mother and Kane can make him see that I've done nothing wrong."

"You're angry, Clarke. That's plain to see."

"And I'm supposed to be happy about being under arrest and facing a death sentence? Again?" Clarke grit out the accusation.

"What happened to you out there, Clarke?" Raven interrupted. "You've got this chip on your shoulder and it's clear the pain from that is making you angry. The City of Light-"

"There's that word again. 'Pain'." She glanced coolly between the two of them. "Look, whatever you two have going on here, I'm not really interested. It may work for you, but I'm trying to keep our people alive. I won't run away from that." She stood without another word, taking her tray as she headed for the exit. Lincoln followed behind her only after shooting one last glare in their direction.

Jaha stared at Clarke's back as she stormed out of the building. "She could get us access to the mainframe. We need her. At any cost." His voice was flat, empty.

"She'll come around. Soon she won't have a choice." Raven smiled coldly.

* * *

Next time, in Chapter Nine:

Indra sighed. "As warriors, we deny ourselves so that we can carry out our duties to those we command. Heda is no exception to this, and carries a greater burden than any of us. That is what it means to command." Her eyes locked with Octavia's. "But I saw what happened when Costia was taken from her. She thinks I did not, but it was unmistakable. If she knew what danger Clarke was in, if she knew what Clarke had done in order to save her life, she would never forgive herself. She will punish herself, and I am afraid that this time, with all that she has suffered, she will not return to us."

* * *

Trigedasleng:

"Mochof, loukot.": "Thanks, friend."  
"Clarke, Oktavia ste kik raun?" : "Clarke, is Octavia alive?"  
"Sha, Lincoln. Em-de laik Fleimkepa. Em kamp raun trigeda kom Lexa; em ste kik raun.": "Yes, Lincoln. She's the Flamekeeper. She's in the forest with Lexa, who still lives."  
"Yu gada strat in?": "Do you have a plan?"  
"Mebi. Ai gaf oso lukots.": "Maybe. I'll need our friends."

* * *

Art by Foomatic


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